Hands and Fire
by The Demon Ledger
Summary: "I am burning." I whisper in the dark room. "I am burning and I don't know how to stop it." Katniss and Peeta try to mend and rebuild after the war. Rated M for mild violence, swearing and some sexual conduct. Cover image made by me, using google images and a photo editor.
1. Chapter 1: District 12

**Summary: "I am burning." I whispered in the dark room. "I am burning and I don't know how to stop it." Katniss and Peeta try to mend after the war. Rated M for mature themes such as violence, swearing and probably some sex.**

 **A/N: This is my first attempt at a TRUE Everlark fic and I'm three chapters in and on a high streak. Please review follow and favorite. Lemme know whatcha think n stuff, ya know?**

Chapter 1: District 12

[Katniss]

"My name is Katniss Everdeen," the palms of my hands are damp against my face, slick with sweat and condensation from my breathing. The light behind the tree had long since faded, receding over the mountains that separated us from the rest of Panem many hours earlier. "I am from District 12. I was a tribute. I survived two Hunger Games. We were bombed. I am - was - the Mockingjay. The war is over. We have won. I am safe." But I don't feel safe. My hands still shake and my body is rocking from the earthquake in my muscles. "I am burning." I whisper into the dark room. "I am burning and I don't know how to stop it."

The door creaks open slowly, and his faint footsteps echo in the empty silence now vacant of my screams. Peeta. Always so good at being quiet when I am at my most volatile, yet when necessary, his feet jackhammer into the ground, shuffling and kicking. But here he was, tiptoeing his silent way over to my shivering form, tangled in sweat drenched sheets. I had been actively avoiding him since he'd planted the primroses in the garden behind my home many early mornings ago. He sinks to the floor beside me, careful hands gently extracting me from the mess of blankets I was caught in. I wonder briefly if he could hear me screaming through his open window, but decide against asking, focusing my attention on not shivering as the cold tips of his fingers brush my bare legs. Moving the hair back from my eyes, he works it into a braid my arms are too heavy to form and then looks at me, blue eyes boring into my own grey ones. We stay silent for a long time, him gently brushing my hair into the same direction, finger-combing the tangles into half decent lengths of hair, odd ends causing him only momentary issue.

Haymitch was right, as I realize he is nursing my wounded mind back into reality the way I had been so selfishly ignoring his. I didn't deserve this man. Not at all.

Peeta ties the braid off with the thinning piece of elastic he'd procured from my wrist, and repositions himself to face me, sitting back with his legs round either side of me. He offers me his arms after another long moment of quiet and I nod, leaning forward instead of moving at all, head resting on the still solid plain of his chest.

"Better?" he whispers, hand pressing small, soft sircles into my back. His voice is as hoarse as mine; from lack of use or violent screams, I can't tell, but the way he holds me, like it would be his death if he let me go, tells me things are bad for him too.

"Are you okay?" I ask, almost choking on my words. I have avoided his question, knowing when I answer, more will tumble from his tongue, his shiny memories distorted further by my constant pushing away.

"Generally, or right now?" without even a glance, I can see the smirk plastered to his face. I pick at my already raw nail beds for a moment while I think.

I slide closer, feeling brave. "Both." I whisper. He chuckles slightly, reminding me of the Peeta I knew before the war. Before the hijacking and the lies and all the mistakes I made.

"Right now, I'm okay. Yes. But…" his hesitation makes me glance up through hick lashes and see his bright blue eyes staring down at me. I feel that same spark I always feel when I look at him, buzzing and fluttering in my chest before disappearing again when he looks away, skin darkening in the already pitch light. His breathing falters slightly, like he's trying to admit something uncomfortable, and I look back down to my hands; his arms tighten and warmth spreads through me like molten metal.

"But?" I reply, a smile inching it's way onto my face at his palpable awkwardness.

"But, Katniss, I'm tired." I could feel him starting to rise, and my muscles tense with a terrible wave of anxiety. "I should go. It's… not safe for me to be here."

I nodded. Peeta is right; he isn't safe around me. His mind still to shiny and raw and he saw the mutt in me about to tear him to shreds too often for him to want to be around me. Things were different now. I draw my body away from his, fearing sleep more and more the closer he gets to leaving. He gathers my sheet, which is stale, unwashed for weeks, and probably smells of sweat and nightmares. I stay seated firmly on the ground, still too shaky to move, and unwilling to watch Peeta leave. I knew things would change when coming back to 12 but I never expected him to be my neighbor, anymore than I expected him to rescue me from my demons when I was the cause of so many of his. I knew from the heat travelling up my neck and flooding my face that I was on the verge of asking him something stupid; biting my lip less than tenderly, I look up at him.

Peeta looks at me with sad eyes. His left eyebrow arches up in a questioning way. I notice more fully his burn scars: his very short hair, cropping close on the right side to hide the fact that most of it was singed off; his flare of pinkish skin that settles around his shoulder and up a bit of his neck; the shortness of his previously perfect right brow. I shrug it off, casting my gaze back to his again. He seems to understand my racing thoughts better than I do, because before I can protest, he scoops me up and moves me into my bed before crossing to the other side and toeing off his shoes.

"What are you-" I begin, but he's pulling the sheet up and removing the prosthetic leg that is so much a part of him now I sometimes forget it's there.

"Shush." he mutters sharply. "C' m'ere." His voice has taken on the quality of one that hasn't slept well and I tentitavely move closer to him, careful not to move too fast. Even through closed eyes, he can feel my hesitation and nervousness. A strong, calloused hand grips my waist, causing me to jump and gasp in a surprised and pleasent way. He winds his arm 'round me and pulls me in tight to him.

"Peeta-" his eyes spring open, now slightly red with exhaustion and he watches me for a moment before closing them again, slightly shushing me through thinly parted lips. "What are you doing?" My muscles are tense against him, knees digging in an obviously uncomfortable way into his abdomen. The slow, soft circles he pushed with the heel of his hand into my back was making everything worse; warming me and making my pieces all soft.

"Katniss, do you want me to stay or not?" he murmurs, exhaustion cutting the softness of his voice. A heat rises in me at the sound of his sharp, yet dulcet tones. I soften further, knees binding with his, molding against him like liquid fire, which had seemingly filled me since his arrival here.

"Always." I whisper against him, tucking my head away under his chin.

"We're okay," he murmurs, "real or not real?" His voice trails off, and he's already asleep before I say the word I've been searching for longer than a month.

"Real."


	2. Chapter 2: Of Nightmares

**A/N: Chapter two. Woo. Please don't forget to follow, favorite, review and lemme know your thoughts, please! =]**

Chapter 2: Of Nightmares

[Peeta]

"My name is Peeta Mellark. I live in District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I survived. The Capitol bombed my home. I was hijacked. I lived." My words were chafing against my throat, rough from my screaming. Katniss had locked herself in the bathroom, until I promised I was okay, running like a skittish animal from my hijacked hands and bloodshot eyes. I reach around the side of the bed for the plastic and metal contraption that has become my leg for the last two years.

"Peeta?" Katniss whispers from behind me. I turn, patiently raising my eyebrows. "Are you leaving?" her hands shake and she walks towards me. I huff and stand, looking at her with frustration.

"Today's my birthday." I say quietly. "Today I turn 18. I wanted to spend the day with you but, of course, I fucking can't." I kick her dresser, hearing the glass jingle on the top and watch with tired eyes as a vase tumbles off the top and smashes on the hardwood floor. I breathe in very deeply, watching the surprise and fear bloom in her eyes. She backs up, hitting the wall before she could get much farther. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I don't want to hurt you." I grab up my coat, which still lay draped over the bed from the night previous and start towards her.

"Peeta, I-" My hands catch her biceps before she could run away again, and I hold her tight to me, not letting her speak. "Please don't leave." she murmured against my chest, voice slightly muffled. "I can't lose you again." Guilt filled me, poured into me like cement, combining with my exhaustion to make me heavy and stupid.

"Oh, Katniss," I whisper, pressing my mouth into her hair, breathing in her scent of primroses and fresh pine and the clean, sharp smell of unscented soap.

"Stay with me." It was less of a question, more of a command, and she pulls away, her sterling eyes searching mine longingly. The sun was peaking over the tree that blocked her window, kissing the window the way my lips were seemingly caught in her hair. I almost can't bear to pull myself away, but push against her shoulders and step back.

"Always," I say, the tired word worn out in my chapped mouth. "But for right now, I need to go home, Katniss." I can feel my energy waning, pushing me back towards her bed. She nods in a silent way, turning her back to hide her cold face.

"Happy birthday, Peeta." she says quietly, voice as hoarse as mine. I turn, shoes squeaking against the hardwood, and leave her standing in the still darkened room before I can change my mind.

* * *

The smell of yeast and flour overwhelm me; I grind my knuckles into the soft dough, going through the well practiced motions of making a risen bread, while sifting through the memories I still wasn't sure were real. It was almost comforting, being home alone with my bread and cakes and warmth of the oven baking the backs of my legs. I shift slightly, feeling the plastic binding o f my artificial limb dig slightly into the stump of my left leg. I sigh in relief as the pain tugs me away from a shiny rendition of Katniss drawing her bow on me. I swing the well worked dough into ropes, weaving them together like the braid I formed for her last week.

 _Last week._

I heave a great yawn, knowing my exhaustion is from the days I have spent without her. I'd spent the time avoiding her more out of personal shame and guilt than anything else. I eat breakfast alone again, made bread by the kitchen window so I could watch her leave to hunt and place my unworthy apology just inside her door.

She never locked it.

My day almost over, I was still waiting for her to leave so I could deliver this braided loaf in my cowardly way, and then hide away again. It wasn't as though I didn't love her; it just wasn't safe to love her the way I wanted to. My hands still fisted at the sight of her, shiny memories making me sick. I place the bread very carefully on my sheet-pan, bathing it in butter and egg yolk and sprinkling it with thick grains of white salt. It was perfect. I stare out the window, watching as a mangy orange cat climbed onto Katniss' kitchen sill. Buttercup, I assumed, Prim's cat from what seemed so long ago but was really only a few months.

I turn, ready to take the tray of rolls out of the oven when i hear her voice screaming; I lunge back to the window, hearing the sound of glass shattering the cat's long, deep howls.

"She's not here! She's dead!" My vision blurs in an instant, a dark vignette seeping into my line of sight, cutting off my peripheral and leaving my eyes only seeing in slanting tunnels of shining light. I clutch the sinks edge, feeling the cold metal bite into my skin as I am thrust back into the moment of the bombs.

Burning. That's all I can feel. Am I on fire again? I slap a hand to the pink flesh on my neck, hot and tender under my palm. Gasping for air, I hurtle away from the sound of her voice, towards the bathroom. I run the tap, filling the bowl of my porcelain sink with cold water as I watch my pupils grow big and the veins in my neck and arms pop like corn under the almost translucent skin. Pale. I'm not burning, but my insides are seizing, rejecting my sudden reaction to her, to Katniss. I should run to her, rescue her, but it's all I can do to not evacuate my scant lunch of potatoes and dried meat all over my bathroom floor. I retch, feeling blindly for the tub and releasing the contents of my stomach into the wide, deep basin with a hearty groan. I fall forward, against the edge; my eyes, my body are heavy with the fatigue that so often accompanies these attacks, and I have to remind myself of the rolls in the oven, the bread on the counter, the girl across the way, so I can tear my weary form from the smell and the pool of water now collecting on my bathroom floor from the overflowing sink.

I shut off the water, sinking my hands into its cold depths before splashing it on my face, letting it run off my chin down my shirt. A chill sweeps over me, cold sweat covering my body as I shake my hands off and dry them on my apron. It's moments like this where I know I'm supposed to phone the doctor in the Capitol, the doctor whose name is alluding me in the fog of my still hijacked mind.

"My name is Peeta Mellark." I whisper, watching my pupils return to their original size, the blue of my eyes brightening, the whites of my eyes less red than before. "I am not a Capitol mutt. I am a victor. I survived two Hunger Games, and a war. I am in love with Katniss Everdeen. I am alive. The war is over." I let the water drain from the sink and throw a towel onto the floor, with a promise to clean it later as I exit the bathroom and continue repeating my list to myself, quiet voice echoing in my empty halls.

The buns aren't burned, but darker than I would prefer them to be, and make a resolution to give them to Haymitch in exchange for a couple goose eggs as I pull them from the oven. I listen carefully, trying to make out some sort of noise, anything from Katniss' home, but there nothing. I change the temperature of the oven and lean against it, waiting to hear the beep that would alert me of its change.

The air outside had grown cold in the last month, bringing with it the steady rain of fall and through the patter of the falling droplets, I could hear only Haymitch's geese protesting against the wind and steady wetness. I watch as a light is turned on in Katniss' room and then quickly dimmed again. I slide the bread into the oven, sinking down against the cabinets opposite, fatigue filling my bones. I can't ignore her anymore, I realize slowly, and fear was no longer an excuse for absence.

I stand after a bit, slightly afraid of dozing off and burning the bread I still needed to deliver, stretching away my attacks tightness and glance into the oven. I refuse to use a timer, working - as my father did - off the basic instincts I now had ingrained in me of the passing of time. Everything still looked good, and another 20 minutes couldn't hurt, so I wander idly over to the phone and dial in the number I had so carelessly scrawled on my wall upon returning home.

After a few rings, the soothing, satiating voice of Doctor Aurelius answers the phone.

"Peeta!" still at a loss of how he could know it was me before I spoke, I continued on in silence, listening carefully, if not a bit suspiciously for him to continue. "What's going on, son?"

Resentment filled me at the casual use of the word, but I pretend not to notice and press on, "I had an attack," I murmur, words like daggers in my throat.

"What about?" he muses in return. I almost hated how easy it was for me to talk to the doctor, how he manages to make me feel so at ease when so few others had been able to for so long.

"I could hear Katniss screaming at the cat." I croak; I really needed to learn to stop my silence; my voice was always hoarse it seemed. Dr. A stayed quiet, waiting for me to continue. "We slept together last week. The night before my birthday. Nothing sexual but... I'm scared I hurt her."

"Have you seen her since this?"

"No." My answer was resolute, unwavering. "Not face-to-face." I amend quickly.

"Maybe that's the next step then, Peeta." he pauses, clearing his throat. "You still love her, yes?"

"Of course, yes." the answer whipped from my mouth before I could process it's meaning; pure and true, I still love Katniss with all I am.

"Then you should just be patient, with yourself, _and_ with her," he says softly, putting an eloquent emphasis on the word and, as if I hadn't noticed the addition of Katniss to a sentence directed at me. He coughs slightly before continuing. "And be sure she knows what you just told me, yes?"

"Yes, okay." I answer, heart pounding at the idea of confronting her with a bombardment of new information.

"Okay, Peeta, is that all?"

"Yeah, I think so. Is there any way you could send canvas and paints in with the next shipment meant for District 12?" the idea struck me suddenly as I look out, past Katniss' house, towards the forest.

"Of course. Have a good evening, Peeta." I nod without verbally responding and hang up the phone, eyes fixed on the sunset that cast the sky to orange. The rain had taken pause, allowing the clouds to settle in a white state; the sun setting down below the trees cast rays of pink and orange into the suddenly clean sky.

 _"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset. At least, that's what you told me."_

 _"You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. You always double knot your shoelaces."_

I glance around, down at my boots first, at the knot-on-knot configuration I'd developed over years of living in a busy environment with no time or space to trip over myself; at the glass of iced-tea, slick with the sweat that ran in thick drops down the cup from the heat of the room, the taste still tart and bitter on my tongue. The sweet smell of the bread brought my eyes to the oven, and the counters covered in cups of half-used yeast and piles of flour. Paintings of my own and of the Capitols exquisite artist's adorned my walls; windows thrown open from my arrival and never shut, causing me too many colds to count. I cast my gaze back to the sunset and wonder: in all the years I've loved her, how have I been so blind to never notice when she started loving me?


	3. Chapter 3: Bread and Books

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I've been working really hard and then lost my job =[ But it's okay! I always have my writing and you all. Please remember to leave a review, cause each one always helps me improve my writing and (shh) get writing done faster =] Thank you for all your support!**

Chapter 3: Bread and Books

[Katniss]

I watch the clock tick and count the seconds until it hits 5 o'clock. Fall was fast in it's arrival, storming through with bitter winds and heavy rains. The clock hits five and I huff in impatience. He called me early, Peeta had, perhaps to give me an opportunity to refuse his company after a week of ignoring my existence. I scold myself for making such an unfair statement on his behalf, remembering the loaves of bread that were left discreetly on my table. Smiling to myself, I kick off my boots and stow them under my shelf in the hall, shaking off my coat and hanging it on the same hook I always did. Routine. Exhaustion had replaced the fleeting high of being out in the storm; the day of hunting in the sharply pounding rain leaving me more than a little damp and frustrated. It had scattered the animals in the forest, sending me home with an empty game bag, and a hollow belly. I pace back to the den, where the single clock hung above the doorway into the kitchen. Five came and passed, time harrowingly slow. I shift back to lean against the low-set bookshelf which was still bare of books.

Five minutes of staring at the clock starts me worrying, an unsettling, biting feeling that made my stomach do flips and my heart hurdle over itself. Just as I make up my mind to throw my hunting gear back on and march out into the storm, my door creaks open, his heavy footsteps assumedly tromping mud over my freshly cleaned threshold. I cross quickly to him, about to chide him for being late and tracking the mess in. His face shone white in the flickering lamplight, the pink ribbons that wound their way up his neck looking hot and inflamed. He clutched a small satchel in his right hand, knuckles white and fingers tightly wrapped 'round the strap.

"Peeta, are you-" I start, voice cautious and quiet. My heart beat is loud against the wall of my chest, fear pushing my lunch around, making me nauseous.

"I need to sit down." he murmurs, stumbling past me, eyes glazed over.

"What's wrong?" I ask gently, following him into the livingroom. He sits himself heavily on the almost unused couch, breathing deeply.

"Oh, Katniss," his voice is rough, a smile tinging his half parted lips. "Everything."

He recounts the events of his week to me, from the quiet moments he has in the morning to the attack he had at the sound of my screams. Buttercup comes curling around the corner at the sound of his name, mewling softly when he recognizes Peeta's voice. I sit as far away from him as I can, delicately perched on the couches edge. His fingers twine through the thick, choppy mess that was my attempt to fix the smoosh-faced cat's fur.

"Okay," I say, rubbing my hands against my thighs nervously, "so, what did you need to tell me?" His eyes shift around, searching for an escape. This behaviour was really unusual, not like Peeta at all, and I have to remind myself that things are different. I try to steel myself for his next words, knowing he was going to tell me he couldn't, or wouldn't, love me anymore. The thought burned in my chest and I coughed, trying not to retch; I am unsure why the idea of him moving on, maybe even loving someone else, was so bothersome to me. The camera's gone, no rebels to quell or audiences to win over…. the acting could end. So why was I still begging him internally to stay?

"Look, Katniss, things are going to be tough for a while." he says, taking one of my rigid fists in his soft and gentle hands. I could see the small lick of flames on his knuckles, internally cursing myself for letting him go off by himself. "But…" his eyes flicker to meet mine, so bright blue they could stop time. "There's no one I'd rather tough this out with than you." my mouth opens slightly, eyes roaming his, "And I never want you to doubt that I'm right here, always." My heart fluttered listlessly in my chest at his words. I reach up to stroke his still delicate features, feeling him tense slightly beneath my hand, try to tell him in words I can't articulate how I feel. He catches my hand in his, holding it to his cheek and smiling softly.

"Take your time, Katniss." he whispers across the vast space between us. The two feet before me stretched like miles the longer I sat without his embrace. The sound of the kitchen door being slammed open made me jump and cry out, breaking my gaze from him to the intruder in my kitchen. Sae stood, a crooked grin shaping her face into almost beauty, a large crate in her strong arms. The shipment from the Capitol!

I dash up, bouncing across the room to where she stands, smug grin still plastered on her weathered features.

"Yeah, I got-cho dang paper, Katniss," she grunts at the practically elated look on my face. "An' you, boy, got-cho canvas things all wrapped up in my flat-bed. Have someone move 'em over this ev'in' after sup." I hurtle into Sae, barely waiting for her to set down the crate, practically knocking her over in my enthusiasm. My arms wrap tightly around her middle, face burying into her chest. She pats my back, chuckling slightly to herself. "Yeah, you're welcome girly." she mutters as she places a soft smack of a kiss on the crown of my hair.

She digs the paper out from under a bag of flour, brushing off the leather wrapping it's been so carefully folded in. The paper is slightly yellow in color, thick like parchment, rough against my fingers which has softened since the war. I run the tips of them down the blonde surface, feeling each raised bump or concave area slide under the pads. It's perfect. Turning to Peeta, I see the item which he'd so carefully wrapped in the sack; a painting of a hazy sky, set brightly against an orange sunset. I could recognize the slanting line of my house in the background, small rows of primroses sharply contrasting against the dark grey siding of my house and the darker green of the forest behind us. I realize in a moment of panic how deeply flamable my house is, and I clutch the blanket, hearing the paper fall in it's thick sheets down to the floor. My fists are still clenched into the flannel draped lazily over my couch. The moment passes, but not without Peeta's heavy footsteps banging into my consciousness, causing me to back away, fear pounding my heart to shreds.

"Katniss." he whispers, hands wrapping around my shoulders. I squeal, a sharp, high note. "Katniss!" I realize his pupils are normal sized, his hands aren't shaking me to kill me but to bring me back. I push him off gently, wiping my now running eyes and nose on the back of my sleeve before I kneel onto the floor to collect the paper I'd dropped. Some was slightly crinkled, lines folded into it from where it fell. "Katniss, what's wrong?"

I shake my head ashamedly, holding my breath to hold back my tears. "That painting is beautiful, Peeta." I whisper, sitting back onto my heels.

"Oh." I can hear a smile leaking into his voice, only covered by the sound of slight disappointment at my withdrawn nature. "Thank you." his hand comes to rest tentatively on my shoulder, bringing my eyes up to meet his. He looked at me with a tenderness I hadn't seen in a long while, before kneeling down next to me with questions in the blue depths. "What's the paper for, Katniss?" The sound of my name brought me back to Earth, as it always did under his tongue.

"Do you want to help me with something?" I ask, excitement eking back into my voice. He helps me up off the floor, and we go to the couch, hands still clutched together. He sits, I sit, and my feet instinctively tuck under his leg. He freezes at the simple action, hand withdrawing from mine. I catch his eyes, preparing to move quickly away; his hand wraps around my ankle, warm fingers climbing their way under my pant leg. _Stay,_ his eyes say to me. I tuck further, toes wiggling slightly at his warmth seeping into my socks. He gazes at me inquisitively, waiting for me to continue.

"Anything," he replies after a long moment of us just staring into each other's eyes. his voice is low, almost animal in nature, and a heat bubbles in my belly, causing me to blush hard and look back down at the papers in my lap.

"I want to remember." I say, not sure where I'm going with this. "I want to remember everything. Prim and my mother and the Merchant section of town. Lady the goat and the reaping and the Games and everything, Peeta." my voice has dimmed again to be barely audible and he draws the paper away from me.

"I want to remember, too." he says. "I want to know what's real."

I look at him, surprised. I had thought things were getting better. The darkness in Peeta's eyes told me he was still hurt and the nightmares still thrashed his body in his bed. I nod solemnly, leaning towards him before resting my head lightly on his shoulder, testing the still murky waters. His lips find traction on my forehead, dipping gently onto the smooth skin.

"Where should we start?" he murmurs into my hair.

"With dinner!" yells Sae's voice from the kitchen. I perk up, running to gather the bread wrapped still so carefully in his linen cloth to cut for the stew. Keeping my eyes steady on the knife's serrated blade was hard with Peeta's warm hand rubbing smooth circles in the small of my back. He kissed my head one more time as I lay the knife down, drawing me close to him.

"We should start here." I whisper before parting. He nods, a secret look collecting like dew drops in his eyes, and we sit to eat.


	4. Chapter 4: Nighttime

**A/N: Please leave a review, favorite and follow if you would like, I really appreciate the support. It means a lot to me. Have a good day everyone, and enjoy some dirty scenes today. Both from Peeta and Katniss' view.**

 _ **This chapter has a warning for adult language and mature themes. Please be advised upon reading.**_

Chapter Four: Nighttime

[Katniss]

But nights were still hard. Without Peeta's solid form pressed up against mine, nightmares resounded. I felt the panic leak into my sleep before I saw it; Prim exploding was a common one recently, flesh forming into shrapnel bullets that carve my skin like a sharp knife into still warm game. I awake this early Saturday morning to find the sky obscured by clouds, but without the still pounding sound of rain that had carried me into restless sleep the night before. He didn't come to find me, I notice, trying to calm my shaking hands. I wonder briefly if my screams had become too much and if he'd closed his windows to me, changing his mind after our conversation only three days previously. Mine still swung defiantly open to the cold demanding my attention. It had dropped to freeze the ground in the night, November sweeping away any chance of vegetation regrowing this year on the still scarred earth. I shiver in reluctance to the prospect of waking up and slowly climb my way out of bed onto legs reminiscent of the sweet gelatin served in the Capitol's hospitals.

Buttercup mewls longingly, stretching at the end of the bed, yellow eyes watching me with still a hint of suspicion. I reach out absentmindedly, scratching him behind the edge of his crinkled ear. I yawn, feeling my joints crack with the drawing out of my body. I arch my back and moan appreciatively, feeling the muscles loosen with each curve, and bounce slightly on the pads of my feet when I come back down. A smile breaks over my face at the realization that despite my most ugly scars being hidden by the Capitol and their gangs of freak doctors, they could never stop the natural aging of a hunter's body. I pull on my house sweater and shuffle quietly to the window bedside, sitting down, looking out into the frosty air. A sound of clinking glass coming from the lower level catches my attention.

Peeta stood in my kitchen, which was already warm and filled with the smell of yeast, pounding his fists gently into a loaf of bread. "You're up," is all he says, his back still turned to me. I nod, then realize he can't see me and clear my throat.

"It's early for you to be here." I whisper.

"I was waiting for you to wake up. No nightmares?" I blink at him as he turns towards me, black shirt covered in white powder. I step forward, shaking my head.

"I'm not sure." he holds his arms out, and I step into them, breathing in his flour and saline scent. My head cradled under his chin, I hear him hum softly to himself while rocking me back and forth. I was confused, I knew I had a nightmare, what with my jelly legs and hands like earthquakes, but I couldn't remember the details, and I know I hadn't woken up screaming. I pull away, not wanting to be comforted anymore. "I'm going to shower." I whisper to him, arms pulling into my chest. He nods and turns back to the bread setting on the counter; I am lost. I feel my heart start to race before I realize what's happening. Peeta turns, crashing into me, eyes black as the rabid dog I'd killed only last week. I felt my back scream in protest, and I was falling, darkness blooming up from the floor to swallow me whole.

My sheets tangling in my legs had caused me to go lunging off the bed to escape the nightmare. Peeta's clunky steps could be heard racing up the stairs, and I look around. I was sure I'd gotten out of bed.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice calls from the doorway. I pull the sheets out from between my legs, looking at the sky, which was a crisp blue. A cold breeze blows in through the open window. "Katniss…" Peeta's voice trails off when he see's me standing by the window, looking out into the clear sky; I had woken up, I knew I had.

"What in the world…" I murmur, mostly to myself, turning and scratching my head. Was I going crazy?

"What's wrong?" Peeta says, voice too loud for the early morning hours. I was wearing the sweater I'd pulled on when I'd woken up - but when had I gone back to bed?

"Were you here this morning?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"No. I only just got here. Why?" he returns; the answer didn't clarify anything to me, and I look around desperately.

"I thought I'd already woken up. I have my sweater on and everything but…" I shake my head. "But I had a dream and…" Peeta cocks his head slightly to one side, looking at me in a puzzled way. "And then I woke up here, tangled in my sheets." I chuckle lightly to myself. "I must've fallen asleep when I sat back down. I was still so tired."

Peeta looks at me suspiciously, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure you're okay, Katniss?" He crosses the room, passing me, and goes to the dresser where I keep the medication prescribed by Dr. Aurelius for the bad days. He opens it, pulling each bottle out, quietly checking the labels while I just watch.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Peeta, what are you doing?" I crawl over the bed to him, catching his arm as he opens one of the bottles.

"I'm just checking something." he counts the pills, small, round and pale yellow, I recognize them immediately. It was the pills my mother had taken when she couldn't sleep, something I'd taken a keen interest in after the Games. "How many of these did you take last night?"

"None, I don't think." I shrug it off. Lying to Peeta was something I didn't do comfortably; my face grew hot and I could tell from the way I played with the end of my mussed braid that he wasn't buying it for a second. "Six or seven."

"Katniss." He leans into me, pulling my braid gently to get my attention. "No." I nodded, shame and fatigue mixing into my brain to make me feel woozy. My legs were still like jelly. He shakes his head at me, moving to kiss my forehead. "Are you okay?" He whispers against my skin; I nod and pull at him, easing down onto the bed with his arms still wrapped around me. There was a warmth in my stomach I couldn't describe, one that made me ache.

"Yeah. Will you just lay with me?" I'm practically purring against him, my hands twisted in his shirt. He kept his arms on either side of me, using them to prop himself up from my languid figure. He looked bewildered, brows furrowed at me.

"Katniss, what is going on with you?" he asks, voice hanging quietly in the air. I shrug, giggling like a little girl. "I need to get to work on the orders." My body sags away from him, feeling the disappointment fill me up like water. I nod, not looking at him. He eases off the bed, brushing his hand over my forehead and through my loose hair before disappearing out the door.

I shuffled around on my bed, hearing my door open fast as Peeta went home. I wasn't ready for bed again, nor did I want to slip back into the state of nightmares I'd only just escaped. My hands roamed the blanket and I moaned uncomfortably at the state of my heat. The tips of my fingers were tingling lightly, as if they'd fallen asleep with me, and I let them travel unconsciously over my skin, imagining it was Peeta running his hands over me.

I stopped suddenly, sitting up. Where were these thoughts coming from? I couldn't have that. Touching lead to sex lead to babies and… babies weren't an option for me anymore. Not since the war and all the problems Peeta and I had and… I… was losing my train of thought more quickly than I could catch it with the slow progression of my brain. I stumbled out of my stupor as fast as I could, throwing my clothes off as I made my bumbling way to the bathroom to run a shower. The door slammed behind me, my eyes having trouble adjusting to the already steaming light in the bathroom. I stuck my hand under the shower head, hissing at the heat before stepping in. It _was_ too hot, but part of me wanted to burn away my lewd thoughts. Peeta was already giving me another chance, and I needed to be as careful as possible. My hands skimmed over my bare flesh, finding contours where there previously had been none. I cursed my wicked mind before dipping my hand between my legs.

It was unlike me to perform in any self-pleasuring acts, but the thought of Peeta brought on a fire in me even Gale's kisses couldn't start. Peeta's voice, low and animal as it had been on Thursday, his hand drawing smooth circles into my stomach and back, fingers tickling the sensitive skin around my ankle. My moans came before I could stop them, between clenched teeth. Peeta, behind me, taking my body with his strong hands, meant for baking and brushing my hair back behind my ears and painting and anything but fighting. I tremble at the thought of him kissing me, as he kissed me on the beach a million years ago. My climax is fleeting but well appreciated. I pant, leaning against the wall of my shower as the steam from the water coaxes the sweat from my skin faster than usual. I turn off the shower, stepping out and toweling off.

"Fuck." I mutter, feeling dirty and crude. I throw on a pair of ragged pants and a threadbare sweater and run down the stairs with still dripping hair - now wrapped in a very untidy braid - to collect my hunting things and clear my head in the only place that still felt pure - the woods.

* * *

[Peeta]

I shove her door open harder than I probably should, feeling my erection straining against my pants at the sight of her laying there on the bed, curled into such a provocative position. The sight of her bare stomach made my heart race as I run down her stairs and out her door, groaning at the feeling of the blood engorged soft tissue. I slam shut my door, panting against the soft wood. I palm myself over my jeans, desperately bleating out hums and moans through my gritted teeth. Euphoria soaked my mind, making it hard for me to think or breathe or movie. I was lost in the sea of her, of Katniss and her ice grey eyes.

I manage to remove myself from my front hall, surprised I haven't made an imprint in my door from how heavily I was slouched against it. I make my way upstairs, peeling off my sweat stained clothes, and run the shower cold. My erection no longer pushed against my pants, but still begged to be touched. I wrap my hand around it, making the long, practiced strokes I was so accustomed to by now.

"Katniss…" my whisper drew from my lips before I could stop it, and I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle the moan that grew, aching in my chest. I stroke faster, leaning against the cold porcelain of my sink, The images of Katniss reappear in my mind, languidly sprawled out before me. Her purring voice from moments before cloud my mind. I release my load, strangled moan echoing off the walls as the hot, white cum hits the floor, the yellow paint, and smears over my hand. I breathe heavily, slowly coming down from my high. I shuffle over to the tub, narrowly avoiding the mess I'd made on the floor, and turn the water to hot. "Fuck." I mutter, grabbing a towel from the rack and wiping up the floor haphazardly. I step into the tub, yanking the curtain shut and basking in the sensational heat of the water. She was too much for me sometimes, but God, the way she was lying there, underneath me, it had taken all the strength in my body not to just ravage her the way I really wanted to - had wanted to for months, years even.

I washed the scent and feeling of sex away from my body as quickly as I could, reveling in the feeling of relaxation I hadn't experienced since before all of this had started. Her eyes, with their slivers of charcoal mixing with the steel that reminded me so much of her. I could barely see through the haze of steam that had collected in the few minutes my shower had taken. I towel off, collecting my thoughts before collecting my clothing which I'd left scattered over the house.

What was it about Katniss that made my heart beat so hard in my chest? I knew love was one of the answers, but the fact that she'd taken so many of those sleep aids worried me. Her small, fragile body lying cold in death was the first and only thought that spun through my mind. I whimper pathetically, grabbing hold of the railing before I can go tumbling down the stairs. Too tired to keep myself standing, I sit; she was going to be okay, I thought softly to myself, hoping to quell the fear that rose like daggers in my chest. I stand, quickly striding into my bedroom to get dressed. I throw on my old house pants and a black t-shirt, grabbing a clean pair of socks and a sweater from the closet. Perhaps I would go to bake at Katniss', keep an eye on her. Today was my day to check on Haymitch, so perhaps I would do that first. I gaze out the window to her house, watching carefully. She has a coat and her bow and a quiver of arrows clutched in her hand as she bolts out her door and crashes into the woods. My hands shake and I want to follow her but choose instead to calmly and quietly wander from my house and into the kitchen, through the backdoor and over to the geese squawking against the cold.

* * *

[Katniss]

The woods were the only safe place left. I whip through the trees, watching the world pass by in a blur of color. Then, suddenly, I realized I was falling. I trip over the brambles and crash my way into the thickets that surround the rocks I used to share with Gale. I smash my face into them, crying out.

"Shit!" I yell, pressing a hand to my now swollen lip and the other to the cut on my brow. I scrabble for my bow and arrows, and, feeling the cold press in as the sun rises further into the sky, my dad's old hunting jacket. I collect all of these things, lost in the vacancy of my mind for a moment. Was this what my mother felt like after my father left? When her mind was so empty of thoughts she couldn't even remember to feed her children? A hot anger surges up in me momentarily before I remember that she is all I have left of my broken family. I rise up onto my knees and scream into the pit below me, the valley that so often was my safe haven and now just reminds me of my sister and Gale and the times before the Games and the war and all the lies and deceit. I scream and scream until I have nothing left and then I curl up against the rounded rock and I cry. I couldn't touch on what was wrong with me, but I had sure as all scared away the game. I get up and start my slow descent into the woods, arrows slung along my back and bow raised slightly in front of me. I could hear the cries of the Mockingjays, haunting me with their taunting duplicates of my own reverberating screams.

A few hours pass before I finally catch something. I have wandered a few miles from 12, closer to the lake and the old cement cabin. A few turkeys had wandered in my path, fluttering their feathers fatly before trying to fly away and being caught by my arrows. I sat by the river which rain colder now from the ice at the tops of the mountains and plucked their feathers off their fat bodies. I throw them into my game bag, standing once the feathers were gone. Brushing myself off, I hear the snap of twigs behind me and swing around with my bow drawn. A full grown buck wanders a fair distance away, and I set my bow to let an arrow fly before the swish of an arrow takes the buck down in a yell of pain.

I hear a recognizable whoop of glee and see a tall, lanky figure with broad shoulders crash their way through the forest, louder than he usually is.

"Gale?" I murmur, then clear my throat. "Gale?" I yell, a smile breaking onto my face before I remember why I hadn't called him. My face drops and I turn to run away before I hear his voice call out to me.

"Katniss!" he yells, jumping over the briars and scooping me up in his arms. "Katniss, God. It's good to see you." he sets me down and brushes my hair out of my face. I nod, looking away at the deer he felled.

"What are you gonna do with that buck?" I ask, breaking the thick, anxious silence and stepping away from his hands.

"Well, I was gonna take it back to 12 and butcher it and I guess I would've figured it out after that. I saw Sae in town, Thom too…" Gale looked at me through his thick lashes. "Figured I would make sure you and the others got some as well. How's Peeta?"

I looked at him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" I question, avoiding his own speculation. He shrugs, looking nonchalant.

"Figured I'd come visit. I think my mom said she was coming back this week. I wanted to help out, plus Two is supposed to be helping with the new factory being built out here." He said this like it was nothing, like there was no problem with him being here. I shrugged too, looking away, back towards the river and the feathers I'd abandoned there. "What are you doing out here? Don't you have enough to eat? Why are you hunting?"

"Why are you?" I mutter under my breath. "Because it clears my head. I figured you of all people would understand that."

"Of course I do." Gale looked at me, a softness in his eyes I hadn't seen for a while, and I look away again, back to the buck. "Wanna help me get that back?" I shrug once again, nodding slightly, more or less wanting to claim some of the meat for my own.

"This doesn't mean we're okay." I say quietly.

"Katniss…" he groans slightly as we walk together to the felled buck.

"What?" I practically shout. "You…" I shake my head. "You did something terrible and then you ran away and you never even tried to make amends with me. Why would I forgive you?"

"Because we've been friends for so long Katniss. Because I love you." His voice ends in a whisper as he grabs the buck by one side of his antlers, and I by the other side.

"I don't see how that's relevant if you killed my sister." I say, bitterness filling my voice.

"I don't see why you're helping me then, if you think I killed your sister." He replies. I look at him, shock in my eyes. "I didn't, though. You killed the person that did. I don't know why you're still so mad. I know those were my bombs. But you know, as well as I do, that I would never use them on children." he shrugs - this seems to be our best method of communication.

"Let's finish this conversation when we're not dragging a giant buck through the forest." I reply, laughing slightly.

"Good plan, Catnip." I look at him, smile still slightly formed to my face. He nods at me and we keep dragging the buck in silence, exactly how I like it.

 **A/N: I actually meant to wait until the next chapter to get Gale back into the story, but I wanted him here now, especially with what Katniss is going through. Please review/favorite/follow if you like, I really appreciate your support. The next chapter should be up in a few days. Much loves. ~B**


	5. Chapter 5: The Green-Eyed Monster

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up, I don't actually have a computer of my own, so I have to wait for the opportunity to use my mother's :P ...But in any case, here's chapter five. I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please favorite/follow/review and lemme know what you think. I'm very happy with it so far.**

Chapter 5: The Green-Eyed Monster

[Peeta]

I watch Katniss and Gale drag in the buck from the sanctuary of Haymitch's front garden, eyes growing soft at the sight of them reunited. I had often wondered why the absence of Gale had never bothered Katniss, but saw fit not to ask, for fear of perpetuating her silence between us. Perhaps it had to do with the war. Perhaps she really had chosen me. The later thought made me jovial, and as such, this is what I choose to indulge. Gale roughly pulls the stag over a tangle of roots poking from the hardened, frost-bitten ground, and the antler snaps, throwing him into a puddle of mud with a surprised yelp. Katniss, staggering under the weight of the animal, lets out a great guffaw. I too laugh quietly to myself, returning to my task of feeding the geese while reveling in the thought that Gale's grace was only undercut by his brutish strength.

I hear Katniss laugh again, and my smile widens; I turn to see what has caused her elation and my face drops into hot envy. Gale has her by the waist, hands tight in her jacket. I thro the last of the feed on the ground angrily, not taking my eyes off them. Katniss seems to be pulling away, blush staining her face pink. I can no longer contain myself.

"Gale!" I yell out, voice harsher than I intend. I wince as he turns sharply, but correct it quickly to a smile, raising one hand in greeting before jumping the fence that contains the birds. We stride to meet, his hand grabbing mine tight before pulling me into a back-clapping hug.

"You look good, Pete." he says, cutting my name short.

"I've been better, but it's day to day, you know?" I laugh quietly, glancing back to where Katniss stands next to the buck. My eyes widen, eyebrows raising in question, and she looks away almost shamefully. I clip over to her, hand gently finding hers. She squeezes my fingers before releasing it; she looks more normal than she had this morning. "Feeling okay?" I murmur, catching her eyes once again.

Katniss nods before gesturing to the animal. "Can you help us?" she asks patiently, and I nod.

"Of course. Book today?" I ask, keeping the question short so as not to attract Gale's attention. A futile effort, I realize, as he's watching us through slightly narrowed eyes.

"Book?" he repeats, question lilting his voice up at the end. Katniss glances at him, almost pained.

"Memories. Things we don't want to forget just because they're gone… or dead." she shrugs and he nods before returning the action.

"Cool." he replies nonchalantly, eyes scanning her face, which is devoid of emotion, cooly returning his gaze. I wonder again what went on between them after the war, and decide to ask upon return to her home.

"Let's get this…" Katniss trails off, looking to me for an answer.

"I have a set-up in town, we can butcher it there." Gale offers, shoulders moving to shrug again.

"Sae's is right there," I reply, throwing a hand in the direction of her house. "Right next to Katniss and I." I lift the end of the deer, gesturing for Gale to lift the front. He nods, looking briefly defeated.

"Cool," he repeats, whipsering slightly under his breath. Katniss looks at him suspiciously.

"What was that?" she says loudly, bringing a hot, red blush to his face.

"So are you two for real now?" he repeats, louder, matching Katniss' volume. I look at the ground, not wanting to hear her decisive no. It would give Gale hope, wouldn't it? Maybe they would end up together. If it hadn't been for me, and the Games, and the war, they would have anyways.

"Yes." she replies just as loudly, almost yelling now. I practically drop the end of the buck, slipping in the mud as my head whips up, face portraying the shock that Gale also carries. Katniss looks at me for confirmation, concern crossing her features when she sees my own confusion.

"Well, that's… good." says Gale, not sounding at all sincere.

"It is." I reply, eyes focusing back to the task at hand. I had expected a no - a hard no - but instead had been met with the softest of yes'. My face breaks into a smile before I can stop it, and just as we reach Sae's door, Gale drops the stag and stalks away.

"I didn't mean to surprise you." says Katniss, watching Gale kick at stones in the walkway through the Village. "I just thought…" she pauses, then turns to me. "I thought that was what you wanted.

My brow furrows delicately, taking in her words before formulating a response. "Is it what you want?" I ask, tilting my head slightly. She shrugs in response, avoiding my gaze.

"Gale created the bombs that coin used to kill all those children… my sister... " her voice breaks slightly, and I can see her hard red flush of her trying to postpone tears. "I can never forgive him for that."

"But if you did…" I murmur, cautiously making my way towards her. "Would you want him?" Katniss ponders this for a moment, looking defeated.

"I…" she says, eyes downcast. "Peeta…" her voice is low, almost a hum. "I want you." A thrill goes through me at her words, tingling electricity that bounces from my chest to somewhere near my stomach. "It's always been you, Peeta. Since the bread. Since before that, I'm sure. Gale…" she stops, blush creeping further onto her hardened features. "I don't love him the way I…"

I stop her with my lips, not wanting her to say the words yet, not as a condition to her feelings for Gale. My jealousy has spiked, flashing red hot, thrumming through my veins. Gale wasn't worthy of her - hell, I wasn't worthy of her. No one was. She was fire, totally and completely consuming. Gale clears his throat from behind us. I had gotten so caught up in her heat that I had forgotten him, and as we break apart, I could tell she had too.

"Are we taking this in, or what?" he says bitterly, glare filling his face. I nod, scratching the back of my head ashamedly. Katniss, however, has no shame in her face. Her eyes shine with pride and utter indifference to Gale's plight in his feeling for her. He ripples for a moment, animal in his anger.

I walk to sae's door, not wanting to get in the middle of what could obviously become an altercation. I knock gently, glancing behind me to see Gale pouting in a childish way. Katniss steps towards him, hand outstretched in what I assume to be consoling, and the sound of flesh on flesh shocks me. Katniss has left a series of fingerprints on his face, thin and long just as her hand is. Sae answers her door to my wide eyes and Katniss' intensity.

"Well," she says, glancing past the door to the deer. "Bring 'em in then, we'll figure it out inside."

 **A/N: Sorry that this chapter is so short! Next one is going to be very, very long and from THREE different perspectives… hmmmm I wonder who's going to be added to the list of people I need to learn how to write from!**

 **Love you guys, don't forget to fav/follow/review. Each actions helps and prompts me along to where I need to go!**


	6. Chapter 6: Enemies

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I have two chapters going up tonight, so I hope you'll be satisfied with that! After those two chapters we're going to have a bit of a standstill on production because I have a novel I'm trying to write (I'll link my wattpad on my profile) and a trip I'm taking to California to visit a friend for an early birthday present.**

 **And then, you know, I have to get a job and be an actual functioning adult in society, which blows, but whatever :)**

 **I will be updating this story and taking down and rewriting the story "Us" my A/U Supernatural ff. Thank you all so much for following me on here and with everything I do, you guys are awesome. Please follow/favorite/review if you enjoy this chapter, and lemme know what you think. Every little bit helps!**

 **~B**

Chapter 6: Enemies

[Katniss]

I'd been overly surprised today. That's what I keep telling myself, hoping somehow the lie would vainly become the truth. Surprise was not the right word for how I felt. Shock, anger, indifference; those were all good descriptor words, words for how my blood currently boils in my veins as I sit, blank faced, on the opposite side of the table from Gale. Sae butchers the meat with Peeta in her tiny kitchen; I could hear them talking and laughing jovially, attitude so much the opposite of the air that filtered between Gale and I. She'd chosen one of the smaller houses in the Village, living still as modestly as she'd always, if not a bit more well fed.

Gale opened his mouth, but at the look on my face, closed it again. I had no time, nor any patience for his words, and as such, wished he would keep his mouth shut for the duration of our stay at Sae's.

Peeta ambles out of the kitchen, a slight jolt in his walk that tells me he's been standing too long, and sighs at the bitter tension lingering between Gale and I. It wasn't as if this was what I wanted, but the emptiness I still felt from the war was sharp in Gale's presence. He carries everything I had tried so hard to forget proudly on his shoulders like a mantle. as if it wasn't enough that he'd created the very thing that slayed out my sister, he had the audacity to sit across from me and act like a petulant child.

"When did this," Gale gestures in a pause between his words, hand waving towards Peeta obnoxiously, "become real?"

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms and refusing to answer. The truth was, I didn't know. Still don't. Perhaps when he hit the wall in the Quell; perhaps when I thought he was lost to me forever. Maybe it was Gale who proved it to me.

"I've always loved Katniss," whispers Peeta, looking down on Gale as if he wasn't three years his senior. "You know that." Gale nods, still not looking at Peeta, eyes fixed on my face.

"I wasn't asking you." he mutters, eyes watching my reaction closely.

"I don't understand why you care so much." I say, avoiding his gaze. His grey eyes, so similar to mine, made me uncomfortable, made me squirm.

" can't help but love you, Katniss." His words drive me over the edge, and I slam my hands onto the table, pushing the chair back so hard as I stand, I knock it over. It clatters to the ground and I stare hard at him, eyes fixed on his. I could feel my pulse in my toes and my fingers. It was hot in this room, too hot; I felt suffocated by Peeta's protective presence and Gale's overbearing nature. Shoving myself away from the table. I took one last look at both of them, before running like an injured dog with my tail between my legs.

Some moments later, I find myself in Prim's closet, wrapped thickly in her beautiful dresses she'd received from Cinna. Two people who died because of me. Two in the countless others who'd bet on me. Sobs strangle me, sobs for all those who died, those who killed, those who, like me, would never stop screaming in their sleep. I moan and wail, feeling more and more like an animal trapped in a cage. I thrash wildly, trying to escape the closet, but just manage to get myself more tangled in Prim's unworn clothing. Scrabbling for the doorknob, I go crashing out, spilling onto the floor in a pile of linen and silk. The room had remained untouched since my return to Twelve, too sacred to be discarded; I was too scared to look directly at the clear evidence that my sister was truly gone. I stand, untangling myself from her clothes, gathering the fallen garments to lay them neatly and gently onto the bed.

"I'm sorry," I hadn't heard Gale enter the house, quiet as he always is. "For your sister." I can hear emotion in his voice, a whisper of tears I'd yet to see him shed. My back was still to him. I continue with my task, not wanting to see the look on his face. "You know I loved her like my own." He continues, and now that I'm paying attention, I can hear the soft pad of his boots on her carpet.

"I know," my voice cracks under the pressure of these words, my hands shaking as I press the dresses onto the bed, hoping somehow the floor would open up and swallow me, so I wouldn't have to have this conversation.

"If you need someone to blame-" his voice is breaking.

"Look, Gale," I say, cutting him off, finally turning to face him. "I don't blame you. I… my sister is dead, and the only person I have to blame for that, the only people, they're dead too. I thought I was protecting her by going into the arena for her, but nothing changed, really. She's still gone, and I'm still empty, and alone. So, can you just…" I wave my hands slightly, not knowing what to say.

"You know that's not true, Catnip. Everything is different now." he folds his arms, watching me. I nod, sniffing and wiping the tears from my eyes before they can fall. "So we're okay?" he whispers. His eyes are red and bloodshot as my own, but they lack the tears I had expected to see.

"If you expect things to go back to the way they were, before all of this… I can promise you that isn't the case. We're not children anymore, Gale. You have a district to get back to and -" I stop myself. He looks confused and concerned.

"I can stay, if you want me to." He's edging closer to me, one slow footstep after another, as if approaching a wild animal.

"I…" I don't know what I want him to do. My world has been so Gale centric for years, and only now am I starting to realize how foolish and redundant it is to put in effort where it's so easily lost. Like throwing a bucket of water into a forest fire, nothing could quench his thirst. We were too full of fire to keep being around each other - we were going to eat each other up with our flames.

"You don't have to answer now." he says, placing one hand tentatively on my shoulder. He slides it down my arm slowly, 'til my fingers are lost in his.

"Gale," I pull my fingers gently from his after a moment. "You can go or you can stay. That's not up to me anymore. It never was, really." I turn back to the dresses, listening to his footsteps stutter for a moment before he finally leaves the room, carrying the weight of all he wanted with him. A sob breaks from my chest, tearing me open, and as much as I still love Gale, I know his place is far away from me, where he won't be lost in my heat, nor I lost in his.

* * *

[Gale]

A string of cuss words is all that enters my head as I turn to leave; selfish fucking child, that's what Katniss is. My hands shake in rage as I exit her house, shutting the door almost violently in my wake. I turn, running smack into Peeta. We both crash to the ground in a fumble of limbs. I feel my head make sharp contact with her cement stair, and see stars for a moment, but right myself almost instantly, sitting up and grasping the back of it with a weathered hand.

"Fuck!" I yell, pulling my hand away after a moment. No blood - good, the last thing I needed was Katniss' gentle hands stitching my head back together and making me want her more than I already did. Peeta sat opposite me, laughing quietly. "The fuck are you laughing at?" I grimace, staring at him through narrowed eyes. He starts laughing harder, clutching his sides as his laughter starts growing louder. "What is so fucking funny?" I stand, continuing to rub the back of my head. I could already feel the goose-egg sized lump forming under the short cropped hair. I offer him help up, remembering his leg.

"Why are you-" Peeta accepts my hand, gasping through his laughter and trying with difficulty to stifle it to finish his sentence. "Why are you so angry?"

"What?" I say, confusion replacing the hard look on my face. Peeta was just as stupid as Katniss, obviously. I wasn't angry. I was… "I'm not!" Peeta shrugs, gesturing to the door.

"Look, I'm not your enemy, Gale. You have every right to hate me, but… if the day comes when she wants you and not me, I'll give her up. She's not mine to dictate or give out like property. She can make her own decisions, and I'm just going to have to let her." his speech comes to an end, hand moving to the doorknob. "I know you just left, probably don't want to be anywhere near here, but would you like some tea? I need to check on her anyways."

I'm somewhat caught off guard by Peeta's kindness. I'd expected him to vindicate me as harshly and soundly as Katniss had, as a murderer and a child killer and an all around fucked up person, but he treated me as a friend. Perhaps he truly was good. I stumble over my words for a moment, unsure what to do next, being so cordially treated by this man I want so badly to hate.

"Sure." I finally manage, tripping slightly over myself in my haste to reenter Katniss' house. I glance into the living room, seeing it thoroughly unchanged. There was no evidence of Peeta, nor of anyone but her, save one painting of a deep orange sunset hanging just over the mantle. Her - Katniss', I reminded myself, momentarily avoiding her name like a small child - house is stained by the color; it's so precise, the brushstrokes so gentle, I have to step closer to be sure it is, in fact, watercolor on the thick canvas.

"Black or herbal?" Peeta's voice brings me swooning from my revery, and I have to catch myself on the bookshelf to keep from falling in my haste to turn towards him.

"Wh-what?" I choke out. Peeta's slight chuckle raises the hair on the back of my neck; is he heckling me?

"Are you okay?" he's scowling slightly. "You hit your head pretty hard on the step."

"I'm fine. Cool painting. What was your question?" I cross my arms in front of my chest, reminding myself of Katniss momentarily.

"Black or herbal tea? Or are you more of a coffee guy?" Peeta's slick grin makes me uncomfortable, though the reason surpasses my limited understanding of my own mind.

"Uh… coffee, if it's not too much trouble." Why did I come back here again?

Peeta limps away gently, nodding slightly and humming the Valley Song under his breath, leaving me to my thoughts. Thoughts which, to my dismay, were quickly dissolving into confusion over Katniss. I pace around her couch, settling myself delicately on the edge; my head throbs slightly from where I'd hit it on the ledge, but I resolve myself to not worry about it, considering the state of my life currently. I'd left Two at a sprint when offered a position in governing the larger district. But why had I come back to 12? Instinct told me it was safe - home. But the woman I wanted to come home to belongs now to another man. I smash the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to drive out the thoughts that maybe a piece of her, the part that had forgiven me, could still want me. I groan quietly into my hands, ears perking at the sound of quiet, sock padded feet.

"Peeta?" I hear Katniss murmur from the kitchen.

"Hello." he responds, voice slightly muted from how it had been at Sae's.

"Why are you making coffee?" she sounds confused; make sense, considering her devout hatred of the bitter drink.

"It's for Gale and I," Peeta responds, voice consistently cool. My brow furrows at this, cautiously turning to look at the entrance to the kitchen. Katniss stands, legs slightly parted, arms crossed defensively, a stance she'd learned from her father and perfected from years of hunting with me. Peeta is staring at the floor, back against the counter's edge, as relaxed as she is stiff.

"What?" Katniss' head twitches forward slightly, the same, defensive movement she makes when she hears something she doesn't like. Peeta's eyes catch mine for moment before he turns back to the stove, removing the whistling kettle from the fire.

"Well someone has to show him some compassion, Katniss, and it's obviously not going to be you. He came back here for a reason, and even if that reason is just you, he deserves to be listened to, he replies. My eyes narrow. _What's his motive?_ I think briefly to myself. _Then again, what's mine?_

* * *

[Peeta]

I was walking a fine line, pushing Katniss as I just had, especially in her own home. My eyes stay on the thick handled mugs in front of me, not ready to see Katniss' bloodshot eyes and betrayed expression. I stir a splash of milk into my coffee, leaving Gale's black as I assumed he liked it.

"If you'll excuse me." I say, stepping past her and into the living room. She falters for a moment, seeming unsure of her next course of action, but decides on following me, constantly stomping her way in front of me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, following my eyes so I'm forced to look at her. Her grey orbs have filled with tears again, face flushed pink with emotion. I frown harder, rolling my tongue once in my mouth before answering.

"He's not here for just you, Katniss. Else he would've come to you straight off." I whisper, keeping my voice low, though I can feel Gale's steady gaze on me, and know he can hear me still. She stammers for a moment before I shake my head. "Look," I say, trying not to spill in my gestures. "Come and sit with us, maybe you'll learn something. Stop being so damn stubborn, Katniss." I side-step her once more, lurching away, a slight wobble in my step. I wince as I put too much weight down on my left leg. For the second time that day, I go sprawling onto the floor, mugs shattering and coffee spraying the ground. I land in a small puddle of it, hands smacking the ground with a wet sound. This time, I do not laugh.

"Damn!" I say, face pulling into one of pain. I use my good leg to kick a chair, causing it to spin and skitter across the floor a few feet. Katniss is at my side in an instant, kneeling in slivers of glass and soaking the bottoms of her pants in extremely hot coffee, but she doesn't seem to notice, shaky hands fluttering over me. "Give me a second, Kat." I say, rolling onto my back as Gale kneels opposite her, chuckling slightly to himself.

"What's so funny?" I scowl, not making the connection from earlier, which sends Gale into a fit of laughter that echoes off the walls. It take me a moment of angry scowling and a chastising "Gale" followed by a light slap to his arm from Katniss before I'm swept up by the same bout of laughter. Katniss looks between each of us in turn, falling back into a sitting position, confusion crossing her slightly pinched features. I sigh, eyes softening towards her as I manage to sit up, back against the couch, side by side with Gale. She giggles slightly, shaking her head.

"Why are you really here, Gale?" she whispers, cutting the sudden, heavy silence. He almost frowns, mouth puckering in discomfort.

"I…" he sighs, one large hand going to rub the back of his head before coming back round to punch the bridge of his nose. "I… ran away."

 **A/N: Alright, well, my wrists are really hurting me, so I'm gonna have to post the next chapter in a couple of days. I have it written and everything, I just need to type it up and make some edits to it. Really sorry guys, I just have some seriously bad carpal tunnel rn.**

 **Please don't forget to leave your review. Each one helps me become a better writer. I love you all very much! ~B**


	7. Chapter 7: Miss You

**A/N: Okay, so I said I'd type up and send out this chapter like four days ago, but I got heavily sidetracked by some other business I had to attend to. I've been working on a short story (link to my wattpad in my description) and I'm just trying to get back into focusing on writing as a general thing. I've hit a wall, however, and find myself stuck in the eternal "he said she said" loop and it's incredibly frustrating to try to write a story as complicated and loving as Katniss' and Peeta's without having any drive. So, expect some delays on this story for a bit, I'm gonna be reuploading 'Us' in the next few days, however, so if you watch Supernatural and need a story to read, feel free to find that :) (Plus a Everlark drabble/possible au story coming your way within the next week). Have a good day.**

 **Don't forget to show your support by following/favoriting/reviewing. Every little bit helps.**

 **~B**

Chapter 7: Miss You

[Gale]

"What do you mean you ran away?" asks Katniss. We've moved to the dining table, Katniss mopping up the coffee as we speak.

"Hey, don't touch the glass with your hands, Kat." says Peeta, leaning towards her from his chair.

"You shush." she says, shooing his hand away gently. "I've picked up worse." her voice breaks slightly. I join her, kneeling on the floor, picking up the bigger shards so she can sweep away the fibrous remains of the mugs. "Gale, are you going to continue?"

"Well, I mean…" I start, a slight tremor in my voice. I fall back onto my heels, unsure where to start as Katniss takes the glass fragments from my hand. "I guess I should start back at the end of the war." Peeta nods, watching Katniss hurry between the still damp floor and the broom cupboard under her stairs.

"Wherever makes sense," she flusters. Her small hands grip the broom handle tightly; it seems to be shaking in her grip. She looks down at me, dark grey eyes wide. "Talk, Gale."

"Okay, okay." I watch my hands instead of her body.

[Three Months Ago, District 2]

My old car carries me down the lane and into the city center. Five days ago I was meeting with President Paylor in hope to see Katniss. She'd refused, telling me Katniss had already been sent home with Haymitch, and to take my sexual frustrations elsewhere. I'd stormed off in a blithering huff, shaking my head and calling our brand new president names. Katniss was gone, back home and away from me and the responsibilities the aftermath of the war had for me. I was sanctioned to return to Two, rebuilding my life in a district where I'd destroyed hundreds of others. I turned left at the Justice building, wheel riding the curb slightly as I shift the car into park. Learning to drive hadn't been so hard, but I was still shit at parking, even a few weeks later.

I wasn't here for myself anymore. There was no more war to be fought, Katniss had seen to that, shooting Coin down from the pedestal we'd so graciously placed her upon. I shake my head, turning off the car with a quick press of a button and exiting. I don't bother to lock it - there are no thieves here, and even if there were, it's just a car. I couldn't be pushed to be bothered if I lost it. My feet were still attached to perfectly well working legs, weren't they? Pushing past the branches of the tree meant to accent the wide streets, I find myself in front of the bustling Justice Building. Lyme would likely be waiting for me just inside the door, all blonde hair and busy hands.

I nodded and smiles smally at some of the people I vaguely recognized from my time here not more than a month or two ago. Time had seemingly sped up towards the end of the war, everything happening in a flare of bullets, bombs, and the white fingers of Peacekeepers. I shudder slightly at the thought, feeling the return of fingers sliding against my skin. I run up the stairs, still covered in dust and rubble. The remains of the Nut looms behind me, a shattered vessel of the powerhouse that Two once was. Power I ruthlessly stole. I shake my head once again, shaking off the shame that always accompanied thoughts of my fucked up plan to blow the shit to bits. Stumbling slightly over myself in my haste, I practically crash through the doors, creating quite the stir in the marble laced front hall. A few of the older men scoff and shake their heads, while younger women look at me like meat while laughing nervously. I don't remember being quite this clumsy before having to return back to normal, civilian life, but perhaps I had been.

The reason I'd been called to the large and grand building was still unbeknownst to me. I'd only just arrived, had barely unpacked my suitcase and the few miscellaneous items that had been set from 13 before I'd heard the telephone ring. I wasn't sure I would ever get used to carrying the small, flat communication device around with me. I glance around the busy area, all different types of people hurrying from place to place around me. The shrill sound of a woman's voice carried through the cacophony of other noises; I could hear my name plainly above the rest.

"Gale!" Lyme crossed to me, tall and sleek as ever, hair pulled back into a slick bun, dress formal but demanding attention to all the right places. I smile lightly, extending a hand to meet hers; she still had a strong grip.

"Lyme," I say in greeting, feeling small under her watchful eyes.

"How are you, soldier?" she questions. I repress a second shudder at the title, following her gesture away from the doors and towards the stairs. Her pointed heels click marvelously against the tiled floor.

"I'm not a soldier anymore, Commander," I say, smirking gently as I use her military title, unintentionally making my point moot. "Wars over, or didn't you hear?" I laugh humorlessly as we make quick work of the stairs. I wonder for a moment how she can keep up with me in such impossible shoes.

"War never ends, Mr. Hawthorne." she replies, a snap in her voice. "That's actually why I called you here."

"Oh?" I say as she opens the door to her office. I allow her to usher me in, settling myself into a seat opposite her desk. She shuts the door gently, then begins her high speed speech regarding moral and civilian agreement, and finally my tasks in Two. They are innumerable. I find myself losing track of her words before I can even begin to process them. I leave many hours later with a pit in my stomach, feeling more lost and confused than I had been when I'd arrived. The desperate yearning for Katniss had returned and settled in my muscles, making sleep impossible.

I toss and turn in bed, desperately trying to get comfortable, before eventually giving up on the idea all together. The city I was given refuge in, the same one they'd sent us to give the end of the war a final push was busier than I'd ever seen it. It didn't look the same as it did on television; it was hot, a sun-baked district with a burned look to it all. Being right along the edge of the Capitol had fucked this district more than anything I could ever do. I missed the quiet, soft air of the woods near my home, and out here, hunting was still illegal; weaponry of any sort had been banned due to riots after the fall of the Capitol.

Yet another task I'd taken on unknowingly upon moving here. With the Mockingjay out of commission and Peeta not exactly the same after his capture and torture, I was to rally support of the new system and government - though to be honest I wasn't sure why that was continuing to be problematic - I was the figurehead. Weeks passed before I truly figured out what that meant.

Suddenly, as if no time had passed at all, though it had been more than two months, I found myself being presented as Corporal Gale Hawthorne to everyone I met, being dressed in military garb and preened and pampered by frivolous people from the Capitols large array of makeup artists. I shook hands with diplomats from places I'd never even known to exist, and was helping President Paylor sign peace treaties into action with men and women from around the world. Some of them spoke to others in garbled tongues, and my brain whirled with the amount of new information that was being pressed upon me all at once. I was never going to be able to keep up.

"How are you liking your position, Corporal Hawthorne?" asks Paylor one stormy day in early November. The rain had rolled in and hadn't ended since the weeks beginning, flooding the streets, reminding me desperately of home. I saw images of wet days hunting with Katniss, in the early spring before the Games, her hair plastered to her neck and her shirt soaked through under her waterlogged leather jacket. I shook the memory off, looking around in an attempt to properly answer her question. My office was scattered with paperwork I didn't know what to do with and I nodded slightly to her as I take a deep drink of my very strong coffee, feeling the warm drink give me a little push.

"I'm very appreciative of the opportunity, President." I begin, unsure how to continue. Paylor glances around the room, a light smirk on her scarred face.

"You look overwhelmed, Gale." she slights, gesturing to my practically overflowing in-box and very vacant out-box sitting haphazardly on my desk.

"Honestly, Madame President, with all due respect, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing here." I reply crudely. She ducks her head at the swear, choking slightly on her drink. I had nothing but the fondest respect and regard for our current president, but… "I'm unsure why I was chosen for this task. I have no experience in this, whatsoever. The only thing I know how to do is kill and mine coal."

"Well, Gale, you _were_ one of the forefront leaders in the entire war on the Capitol's regime. You worked side-by-side with Katniss - you took down Two! Maybe it wasn't on your own completely, but your idea is what practically won us the war." Paylor shrugs, an oddly unprofessional act on her. "Give yourself some credit."

"But that's just the thing, President Paylor. Katniss and I… we didn't really do anything. I mean, yeah, we filmed some propo's, and shot down those fighter-crafts in Eight way back when, but if I'm being honest… she deserves more credit than me for, well, everything. She fought this war before it even existed. She ended it when we all thought it was already over." I look at her; she wears a secret smile on her thin lips. "We weren't really a team, not in the end." It takes me a second to realize she's chuckling softly to herself. "What am I missing."

"Oh, nothing." She considers me for a moment, eyes searching my face before shifting forward in her seat across the table from me. "Now, I want you to take your time with this Gale. We've all discussed this, back at the Capitol, and we're electing new leaders for each district. We'd like you to represent Two, if you would." She chuckles a little louder at the stunned look on my face. "Take your time." She rises from her seat, setting her cup down on the plate it belonged to. "But not too much time."

My hands shake as I lock my office door that evening. Run an entire district? Me? I could barely keep up as it was, let alone with an entire district on my shoulders. What did that even mean? I cross the empty street to my car, the hum of the streetlights still foreign to my ears. The air is heavy with the smell of rain, and there are no stars tonight, no singing of crickets, and the trees are all empty of leaves. The wind cuts through my light jacket as I open the door to my car, settling myself in the leather seat.

Would I be able to do this? Would I be able to run a district on my own? Would it be on my own? There were so many questions stirring in my mind as I started my car, hearing the rev of the engine I'd grown to love so much. I look out the windshield and down the long, winding road that leads to my house, stealing myself in my decision.

I needed to run.

[Present]

[Katniss]

Gale ends his story just in time for Sae and her granddaughter to enter quietly through the kitchen door. She carries a large pot of what I can only assume is stew from the venison we'd shot only this morning; it felt like forever ago. I rise quickly to avoid the responsibility of responding, feeling nervous and claustrophobic again. It was an unusual sensation, not necessarily something I wanted to get used to. I smile at Sae's granddaughter, who bolts straight for my mother's old yearn collection; Buttercup hisses at her from his spot in the rocking chair, but she pays him no mind, patting the crotchety cat once on the head before settling on the floor with a skene of navy blue yarn.

"Is everything okay?" Sae asks me gently, hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "You ran out in a bit of a tither earlier." I nod, still soft around the eyes. Her gentleness sends a spark of reminder through me, and I whip around to stare determinedly at Peeta. He cocks his head slightly to the side, smile sliding onto his face.

"How's Haymitch?" I ask, voice bright. I was still avoiding Gale's grey eyes, too scared to meet them fully and see the hurt at my ignorance of him.

"Better," he replies. "Told me he was 'never drinkin' again, no sir'." Peeta chuckles at his half-hearted mockery of Haymitch. I shake my head, laughter getting caught in my throat. "Want me to take him something?" Peeta looks as if he's about to stand, pain grabbing his face and wringing the smile out of it. I rush to him, hand outstretched to stop him.

"Please, Peeta." I say, voice catching slightly. I was a mess today, all emotions, unfamiliar and unwelcome. He settles back into the seat without much complaint, happily distracted by my fussing. Gale has remained silent and stoic since finishing his story, and I'm unsure if he's waiting for one of us to speak to him, or if he simply has nothing left to say. I look to him, and words spring to my lips before I can stop them. "What are you going to do?" I shut my mouth quickly, but meet his eyes, unwilling to relent.

"I…" he pauses, obviously irresolute about his decision. "I was going to stay."

"Gale." I chide lightly, crossing my arms.

"Katniss." he replies, mocking my quip. I frown, deepening the fold in my arms as I shift uncomfortably behind Peeta.

"You're not serious?" asks Peeta. He's place a hand on my arm, rubbing soothing circles into my flesh with this thumb. Gale shrugs, a usual action that I had grown weary of.

"Gale." I repeat, eyes narrowing. "What are you going to do, for real, actually."

"I don't know, Catnip!" Gale barks, eyes sparking. "I don't fucking know, okay? I want to go back, if only to get away from here." his words sting a bit, and a blush rises to my cheeks?

"Then why don't you?" I spit, backing away from Peeta's hand. I wasn't going to cry. I had to promise myself that, or else I would.

"Because, I need to be sure." Tears spring to my eyes a she says this. Sae clears her throat from the doorway, signalling time for lunch.

* * *

We eat in silence. I help Sae wash the dishes and accept some tips and food for dinner with an unapproachable air. I kiss the little girl's head and shut the door behind them and stay in the kitchen with tears in my eyes. Gale walks up behind me - I know it's him, because his footsteps are even, there is no jilt in his walk.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and I want to slap him for even speaking.

"Why?" I reply, back to him still. I can feel the heat from his hand before he even touches me. It wraps around my shoulder and I try to shrug it off but he turns me to face him.

"Because you're right." he says; there's a sigh in his voice. "I need to go back, huh?"

A sob breaks from my chest, and I throw my arms around him. Part of me still hates Gale for the plans he'd made and the people he'd helped me kill. But the other part still loves him so much, so drastically. "Don't go." I whisper into his chest. "I miss you so much." I can feel Gale's quiet laugh more than I can hear it. He rubs his hand deep into the lines of my back, and places a gentle kiss on my head.

"You don't need me anymore, Catnip." he murmurs. "You have everything you could ever need here. And my phone number is in your phone book, for the days you miss me too much." I follow the line of his arm to the small notebook I hadn't noticed next to my phone. A smile melts onto my lips. He squeezes me a little tighter, hands shaking as mine had been. "I'm scared." I nod. "I love you." I nod again, breathing slowly out through my nose. "I'll be back." I nod once more, pressing my face into his chest.

"You're always going to be my best friend, Gale." I murmur. "Always."

"You too, Catnip." He kisses my forehead and takes my face in his hands. "You are better than you will ever know." I smile at him and tug away, poking him in the chest. He laughs gently, grabbing my wrist. We hug again.

"Are you gonna stay for dinner?" I ask into his arms. He hums, speculating my question.

"As long as you're not cooking." I pull away and smack him lightly on the arm, giggling.

"Don't worry!" yells Peeta from the livingroom. "It's my turn tonight." We all laugh. I wander into the den, eyes searching for Peeta, who'd made his careful way to the couch to paint an elegant portrayal of The Seam.

Gale would leave in the morning. I would get to keep my best friend for one more day; confusion hit me for a moment, however, and I wasn't sure why. I didn't want Gale to leave, even though I know he has to. Two was where he belonged - a place that realized his potential. I shrug off my discomfort, looking down at the book coming into fruition under Peeta's masterful hands. Gale was drinking freshly made coffee and staring out the window at the great big forest behind my house; Buttercup wound around my feet, mewling softly.

 **A/N: So the next chapter is coming a little easier to me now.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter! You'll get one more with Gale (for now), and it'll be an extra long one, though none of it will be from his perspective.**

 **Please favorite/follow/review if you wish! Every little bit helps.**

 **~B**


	8. Chapter 8: Kiss Me Please

_A/N: Author's notes will now exclusively be at the end of the chapter, if you read them. Please take a moment to read the one at the end of this, it's very important today!_

* * *

Chapter 8: Kiss Me Please

[Katniss]

I find myself tucked loosely under Peeta's arm on the couch, listening to the rain hit the windows. The mountains loomed in the background, behind the wide leaves of the oak trees that spread in their orange and red splendor. Gale patted his stomach happily, sifting through the completed pages of our book, carefully running a finger over the salt-water washed pages. He looked up suddenly, a strained expression on his face.

"Your mom called." he murmurs, looking at me.

"What?" I say, a frown blooming onto my brow.

"Your mom. She called me on my way here. Said you haven't been calling your doctor." Gale set down the still loose pages on the dark coffee table before crossing his arms and scowling at me.

"How would she know that?" I ask, blush building up my neck, growing hot on the apples of my cheeks.

"Katniss, is this true?" question's Peeta gently, pulling away from me. His eyes look uncertain, but still filled with concern.

"Well, I mean, yes, but I don't need to talk to a doctor! I'm fine." I say defensively, looking between the two men. I feel hot and suddenly closed in, as if their bodies were walls slowly pushing in on me.

"Katniss," Peeta chastises, "you were in a war. You lost your family."

I shake my head, "Not true, my mother is still alive, and you and Haymitch and Gale," I say racking my brain for excuses. I gesture to the men, ducking my head when they simply frown harder.

"Katniss, you watched your sister be blown up right in front of you and then shot Coin. You didn't talk for two weeks." Gale says.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot I could say to that Gale." I respond, trying not to yell. He cocks his head to the side, simply egging me on. "You know she'd still be alive if it weren't for you and your bombs!" I shout, standing, suddenly out of control.

"And 12 would still be standing if you hadn't been selfish in that first Game!" Gale yelled back. He stood too, coming closer to me than I would like. His eyes, so similar to mine, were dark with anger.

"Selfish?!" I had to physically hold myself back from slapping him.

"Yes, Katniss, selfish."

"I saved Peeta's life! Would you've rather I'd killed him?!" My voice has gone shrill with rage.

"I never said that." Gale replies.

"So, what… me? I should've died." I look at him, shocked.

"Katniss… no. We all appreciate the sacrifice… sacrifices you've made. No one more than us."

Peeta has stayed very quiet throughout the yelling match between Gale and I. My eyes wander to see him, all dark eyed and clenched fists, still curled into a ball on the couch. I step forward slightly, brushing off Gales restraining hand, reaching a hand out to him. His eyes shoot up to meet mine, feral in their verocity. He grabs my wrist, slamming me down to the ground in one swift moment that reminds me of his strength. His body settles heavily on my own, legs on either side of me; his arm, strong and wide, restricts my airway as his hand curls further into a white knuckled fist. I strain against him, choking for only a moment until Gale pulls his struggling body off me, holding him around his neck until his struggling becomes desperate sobbing into Gale's chest.

Propped up on my elbows from my position on the floor, I watch as Peeta turns to me, a hard look in his ocean blue eyes. He's shaking, trembling limbs erratic as he limps towards me. I don't back away, unafraid of him even in his post-hijacked state. He kneels before me, fluttering hands trying to find a safe place to lay themselves on my body. I reach a hand out, shaking slightly from the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, but not wanting to further provoke him; Gale starts forward, but I shake my head, almost commanding him to stay back. I am not afraid of Peeta, even as monstrous as he can be at times, because I am not afraid of death. My heart hurts for him, but it's tinted with a bit of bitterness from the pain radiating up my neck. I yearn, even so, to comfort him in some way.

He grips my hand hard, quivering a little less at the sensation of my warm fingers wrapping through his chilly ones.

"I'm so sorry." he whispers brokenly.

"I know," I say hoarsely, nodding and clearing my throat. My body leans forward, almost instinctively, and I curl him into my chest, soothing his tense muscles. "Stay with me." My hands find his face, and I search it, looking for the gentleness, the softness that was once held there. He's still shivering, as if overwhelmed by cold.

"Always." he whispers as the hardness leaves his face. I kiss him softly, not shy in my affection as I so usually am. He carefully reaches a hand around to caress my neck. From behind us, Gale clears his throat. I smile gently into Peeta's lips, backing away to look at him.

"Should I go?" he jokes.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" asks Peeta, turning from his spot on the floor in front of me. Gale shrugs, neither confirming nor denying the question.

"You can crash on the couch for tonight." I say, smile still on my full lips. Peeta arches an eyebrow at me, an unspoken question lingering in his bloodshot eyes. "You know, if you wanna."

"Sure, sure, Catnip." he laughs, almost nervously. "When's bedtime?"

"Well, I gave up on sleep long ago," says Peeta through a grimace as he rises. "So whenever you're tired, we can vacate and you can get some sleep."

"That trip had me beat about four hours ago, so I'll call it a night now, if you don't mind so much." he throws a wink at me, simultaneously avoiding my gaze before stretching widely. Peeta nods, slightly confused at Gale's action.

"Did you want me to stay?" he asks me, a spark of defeat in his wide eyes.

"Yes." I say promptly, smile widening. "If you will." I amend, not wanting to sound as desperate as I felt.

* * *

We climb the stairs half an hour later, Peeta struggling to maintain a steady hold on his tea and the railing. I reach a hand out for the mug, trading him instead a book he'd ordered from Capitol shipments.

"Who's William Shakespeare?" I ask slowly, eyeing the book suspiciously.

"Dunno." he says simply. "But it looks interesting. It's about a prince whose father is murdered and his Uncle usurps the throne." he says, reading the back of the worn paperbound. "Apparently he was really popular before Panem was settled. That's what Effie told me, at least." I spun around as I reach the top of the stairs, and he lurches, not wanting to run into me with hot tea in my hands.

"You talked to Effie?!" I practically hollar before remembering Gale trying to sleep on the lumpy couch downstairs.

"I speak to a lot of people," his voice was teasing, bordering on sarcasm. "That's what happens when you use the phone." I stick my tongue at him, opening the creaky door to my bedroom and glancing around. I hadn't had a chance to fix it since this morning. My sheets were still strewn erratically across my bed, blanket in a heap at the foot. Peeta made his slow, limping way around to his side, by the still open window. He slid it slightly shut, allowing a cooling breeze in, but limiting the rain that cascaded heavily from the blackened sky.

"How is she?" I ask softly, straightening the sheets as Peeta sits heavily on the bed, watching the thick drops hit the rippling pane. He sighs slightly in relief as he removes his prosthetic leg, placing it under the bed. He rubs his stiff stump, grimacing.

"Huh?" he says blankly. "Oh. She's fine." I wait for him to continue.

"Is that all?" I ask impatiently.

"Why don't you call her, Kat? Her number is in your phone book." he sounds impatient as he leans back against the headboard. He uses the annoying nickname he's grown fond of, and rubs a hand over his face before picking up Hamlet, opening the worn paper.

"You know I hate the phone. And that nickname." I say, casting him a severe look.

Peeta mutters something that sounds like 'you hate a lot of things', but I ignore it, not wanting to escalate a fight that had come out of nowhere.

"What's wrong?" I ask, a little more harshly than I mean to. My arms come to cross defensively over my chest.

"Nothing. My leg hurts." he watches me as I shift nervously from foot to foot, avoiding his eyes. "You don't want Gale to leave,'' he finally says. It's not a question, even though I feel like it should be. I meet his eyes finally, confused a bit by his statement.

"No. But yes." I shrug. "Do you want me to rub your leg?" His brow furrows as he sets down his book. His eyes search my face for a moment, trying to discern my feelings.

"No, Katniss, I want you to come here." I feel my heart pick up, racing against the wall of my chest as he extends a hand.

"I…" I wring my hands, meeting his gaze.

"Katniss." he murmurs. My insides start to feel warm at the gravelly sound in his voice - I can feel my stomach muscles clench with the effort of keeping myself standing. I'm confused and aroused all at once. "Please come to bed." his voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper, but I can feel my body betraying me. A heat grows up my neck, blush blooming, scorching my already hot skin. I slip into the bed, shaking slightly as Peeta takes my hand, pulling me close to him. I'm not used to the feeling of him yet, even after all the nights we'd spent together on the train. I still shiver at his touch. This feeling of the clenching muscles and tight soft heat radiating down my legs is new, surprising thugh not unwelcome I'm overwhelmed as I kneel beside him, hands falling to rest uneasily on his chest.

"Kiss me?" he asks, touching a warm hand to my searing cheek. Each brush of his fingers feels like fireworks. I nod, slowly, eyes wide as he smiles. The lean in, build-up, anticipation of it all has me squirming and I quicken the pace, hands grappling at the back of his neck as I pull him into me.

His fingers tighten their grip at my waist, a small groan escaping him as I push my lips to his, quickly and furtively running my tongue along the seam of his mouth. I'd never kissed him like this; I'd never been kissed like this at all. My hands spread through his hair, pulling at the soft, curly fibers gently as he encourages my lips with his own. My tongues meet, and my body melts, a soft moan escaping me.

At this, I pull away.

"I…" I whisper, eyes wide and tears starting to well. I can't breathe all of the sudden, as if the sound of my moan, the feeling of his tongue stole the air from me. "Peeta…"

Peeta's eyes are warm and full of concern, his hands moving to pull me into his chest. I kiss him over his shirt, softly enough to go unnoticed. His hands run over my braid. I pull back, questions in my eyes.

* * *

[Peeta]

"Stay with me?" she whispers, eyes full of longing. I cast my gaze to the window, black clouds dispersing the light from what would have been an almost full moon. I can hear the steady rainfall, hard demanding patters telling me to stay, like I'd told her I would. But I could feel the building arousal in my pants, and the cloudy feeling that obscures my fragile mind; I'm so volatile, I can't deny that. "Please?" her voice is low; heady, full of unexpected provocation; it softly breaks down my walls; I'm caught by her steely eyes.

"Okay." I push further down into the bed, but she rises, shedding the sweater. She is clad in only a loose fitting shirt, worn to the point that I can see her deeply tanned skin and rippling back muscles through the almost sheer fabric. Her skin glows in the soft light, and as she unwinds her hair from her braid, now long and lush, I get lost in the deep chocolate waves that cascade down her back. It's slightly frizzy from the humidity of the day. I breathe hard through my nose as I pick my book back up off the bed.

I don't quite understand the language of the writing, old as the book is, but it's easy enough to follow after a while, once I got the rhythm down. Katniss turns to me, eyes brazen and face flushed. I cocked my head to the side while looking at her, book falling to my lap. She'd filled out in the several months since my return. I remember how she'd looked that day I'd surprised her by planting the primroses, skeletal and pale as she was, looking at me as if she'd seen a ghost. I realize my mouth is hanging open a little too late, and move my eyes from the curve of her fuller chest to where her eyes sit, soft and embarrassed in her very pink face.

"C'mere." I say, motioning her over again.

"I don't want children." she bursts out suddenly, totally unprovoked. She covers her mouth and begins to cry, but I can't figure out why.

"Well, okay, I know that Katniss. I don't necessarily want them either." I answer her desperate look with another move of my hand, too physically exhausted to move to her. My book is now discarded on the floor in a spine-breaking position.

Katniss makes her tearful way towards me. She kneels in front of me, tucking her feet away.

"You… you don't?" she asks, playing with a bit of her loose hair before tucking it behind her ear, avoiding my gaze again. I wait a moment before responding, trying to formulate the best response.

"I mean… I did. But life changes. People change. And I don't know if I'll ever be okay enough to trust myself around children." I touch her arm, gently pulling her into my chest. "If I change my mind, however, you'll be the first to know.

"Yeah. Ditto." she yawns suddenly, jerking herself away. "Bed?"

"Yeah." I reach over her as she reclines to pull the covers over us both and switch off our old coal-oil lamp. It was very dark in the room after that. She pulls to me, pushing her face into my chest. My arms go around her instinctively; I can see her outline, feel her cool breath against my neck.

"I love you." I whisper into her hair. She nods, a better response than I expected.

"You should move in." she whispers sleepily. It takes me a moment to fully process her words, but by the time I do, she is already asleep.

* * *

 _ **A/N: PLEASE READ THIS.**_

 _I will not be updating this or any other story again until AFTER I return from my vacation in California. You should expect an update no later than March 2nd and can yell at me if I take much longer than that. I appreciate all the support you have shown me, and would like nothing more than to post while I'm gone, but won't have a computer at my disposal while visiting friends._

 _I will, however, be checking my FF account every day, so please, please, please remember to review and give suggestions as to where you would like this story to go. I am starting to hit a wall that I hope subsides while I'm down in Cali but nothing can guarantee that. Also, be sure to check out my profile, I have a poll going on right now for my next SHORT ff and would really like everyone's input._

 _Please follow/favorite/review if you enjoyed, and have a good night everyone! ~B_


	9. Chapter 9: Fight

_Happy reading~_

Chapter 9: Fight

[Peeta]

I awoke the next morning before the sun, early twilight casting thick shadows in the still humid air. There was a wet spot on the floor just beyond the window, a puddle reflecting the relief of rain from yesterday. Katniss snored slightly in her sleep, eyelids fluttering in her dream state. Trying to sleep with the weight of my nightmare sinking into the cracks of my mind was a lost cause. I rise from the relaxing comfort of Katniss' lush and giving bed, extracting my arm carefully from under her body. She grunts a bit, rolling over, her brow furrowing frustratedly. I grin. It was strange to see Katniss so at ease in her surroundings; even in sleep, I suspected she was always slightly on edge.

I was tired; even as I stagger to my feet after putting on the artificial limb provided by the Capitol, I realize I am always so, very tired. Not an exhaustion I could simply sleep off, either. I shake my head slightly, making my cautious, if not sore, way down the stairs. This was a heady, unsure kind of tired, something I wasn't used to, and didn't want to get used to.

Gale rises as I reach the bottom of the stairs. He's shirtless, and in that moment, very briefly, as if I almost don't feel it at all, a pang of jealousy surges through me, hot and violent.

"Morning." I mutter through clenched teeth.

"Morning!" Gale responds brightly, not noticing my strained tone. "How'd you sleep?"

I shrug, almost mimicking his noncommittal attitude. "How about you?" I ask, wandering into the kitchen with my fists buried deep into my pockets.

"Oh, just great on that back breaker you call a couch. Seriously, are there rocks in there or something?" I could tell he was trying to lighten the air from the high-strung conversation last night. Between him running from Two, and my unexpected melt down, the edginess that existed between all of us had reached a boiling point. I could practically feel my blood pound, red-hot, through my constricting veins. "You think Catnip is okay?" pressed Gale, throwing me off my train-of-thought.

"I think we might all just have to come to terms with the idea that we're never, ever going to be okay." I reply sternly. "Then, maybe we'll survive." I pop the freezer open, grabbing out a roll of something at random and tossing it to my work surface. Cookie dough. I take to cutting it apart in careful strokes, sharp knife dangerously close to my curved fingers.

"I mean I guess," Gale mutters, leaning against the sink to look out the window. The muddy air is still dark, though I can tell the sun is moments from rising. "But I just… I worry about her. you know? Losing her sister, and it being my fault… I just have a hard time swallowing back that grief every day."

"Well, choke it down, Gale." I reply, "because she's been dealing with it okay so far."

Gale nods, but I can see his jaw working in frustrated response to my words. I shrug it off, disallowing myself to be bothered. The steady rock of the blade keeps me focused away from it, until I hear small, short footsteps bouncing down the stairs just as the sun rises. It's rays peak slightly through the still formidable cloud coverage, throwing light into random parts of the garden. A smile reaches its way onto my lips before I can stop it, small but relentless.

"Good morning!" pipes Gale, brightening visibly at the sight of her. My hand tenses on the handle of the knife.

Katniss still has her eyes on me, a concern look plastered to her thin features. Her eyes roam over my face, studying the glazed over quality of my own, and the white of my knuckles on the thick handled knife. She grazes a hand up my arm, brow furrowing slightly. Her fingers grip around my bicep, and my eyes fall shut, concentrating on the feeling of her hand contracting tightly around the muscular band. Her eyes spoke before her lips could.

"Are you okay?" she whispers. I can feel Gales jealousy pouring off him in waves, eyes boring into where her hand lays gently on my lower shoulder. I nod, shrugging out of her grip, eyes still closed, trying desperately to keep the monster at bay.

"How'd you sleep, Catnip?" Gale's voice is nonchalant, if not a bit whiny, begging for her attention.

"Fine," came her cool brisk response after a moment. "But Gale, I swear, if you call me Catnip one more time, I will end you." The end of her sentence is punctuated by a short, clipped laugh, bubbling uncomfortably from her throat. Gale sends her a teasing wink that I only just catch as I reopen my eyes; he jumps away from her threatening fist with a yelp and a bark of laughter.

Katniss trails after him, eyes still on me. Her frown deepens.

"What's wrong?" she mouths silently, lingering at the door.

"Go," I reply, cutting my eyes away from her as I place the slices of dough on a sheet tray. I can almost hear her anger flare, but she shuffles away after a moment, leaving me in the sticky air of the hot kitchen. I hear their murmured tones from the sanctity of the room, reveling in the gust of heated air that pours out of the oven when I place the cookies in.

I find my usual place, leaning against the table near where the wide, empty door frame opens into the rest of the house. I gaze down the hall to the room where Snow first threatened Katniss in her own home. A shudder goes through me. I remember then, with a start, that this is the same table where Gale was healed slowly from his public whipping. The same table that almost lost me Katniss; the same man, so much stronger and braver and more put together than I, who sits with Katniss in the livingroom, eyes roaming her wildly, hungrily. I turn my gaze to them, watching him. His hand brushes against her braid.

I can no longer see straight. My world is crossed; I don't remember lunging to my feet. Gale leans forward slightly, eyes teasing but soft. My feet move of their own accord, dragging me forward slightly. Each step is strained, but silent, each movement from my hardened joints wooden and brittle. Katniss' face flushes pink as he pulls on the end of her braid.

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" Gale murmurs, voice throaty. My feet drag me forward another step.

"What would I even do there?" she asks, gently pulling her hair free from his grasp. My body lurches to a halt just before the entrance to the wide living room.

"Help me. Keep me company. Keep me from fucking everything up." He muses. "Be with me."

I felt under attack. All my senses were bombarded by the overwhelming feeling of jealousy. _Be with me._ It was sudden and fast, the way I moved from my spot at the door to where Gale sat. I had thought this man to be my friend, had allowed him, even invited him into our home - our space. I felt betrayed and confused, but mostly, angry.

 _Be with me_. I pull gale to his feet by his short hair.

 _Be with me._ He shouts, but I cannot make out his words through the pounding of blood in my ears.

 _Be with me._ I break his nose, feel the bone crunch under my knuckles, but this is the only blow I am sure of, for the hazy, sheer blackness of my hijacking overtakes me, and I am struggling through fog.

 _Be with me._ "Peeta!" _Be with me._ "Peeta, tell me your name." _Be with me._ "Gale, please, help me!" _Be with me._

 _Be with me._

 _Be with me._

The hands on my face are not Katniss'. They are strong and big and covered in calluses. They are Gale's. He and I are kneeled on the ground, though I can't remember falling. My eyes crack open. Gale's face is red and swollen as my knuckles; the floor digs my prosthetic into my knee, but I can't detect injury otherwise. My ears are ringing, as if I've been through an explosion. His lips are moving. I can't hear him; I do however, pick up on the sharp scent of burned sugar and pull out of Gale's hands. I feel stunned, drunk almost, as if my brain was filled with Haymitch's white liquor.

Katniss is in front of me before I'm able to respond, and I bump into her slightly in my effort to stop. Her lips move, but the world is still quiet in my ears.

"My cookies are burning." I say, voice rough. She pushes me, hands making sharp contact with my shoulders.

"What the hell, Peeta?" The world rushes back to me, sound light, all bright and loud. I wince as she shoves me again.

"Please, Katniss." I say, body becoming submissive, shoulders falling. My hands burn and ache.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" she spits at me. I hear Gale start to protest, but she shuts him down quickly. "He has no more excuses. So? What is it? What's your issue?"

My hands turn to fists reflexively, and my eyes narrow. "You."

Katniss balks.

"He's right." Gale chips in.

"Shut up." I wave my hand, stopping him. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But it's also wonderful. And I need you to tell me: do you want to stay? Or go? Because if you're happy, I'll be okay with either decision. Just… don't leave me in the dark. It's already hard enough to tell what's real and what's not anymore." I move past her, to the oven, where my cookies are blackening rapidly, and throw the whole tray into the sink, leaning over it. My head falls into my hands and I feel her thin arms wrap around my waist. It takes me a moment to respond, body stiff as her hands spread over my chest and stomach.

"Will you move in here?" she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my earlobe. I pull her around to my chest and push my lips to hers hard. I could still feel my anger boiling in my chest. I want simultaneous to hold her, kiss her, make her mine; but also to walk out and never come back. Her fingers press against my chest; there is a bitter, yet longing edge to this kiss, something heated and almost unknown. I pull away looking at her for a moment, her yes remain closed, her nostrils flared. She still seething, but this is neither the time, nor the place to talk. She leans her head against my chest gently.

"I thought I lost you." she whispers.

"No, never." I push away the thoughts of running, cocking my head while I look at her.

"So?" she meets my gaze after a moment. Her eyes have gone soft.

"Tomorrow. Can you find me the medicine kit?" she nods, ducking out from under my arm. I turn to see Gale looking at me, eyes concerned.

"I'm sorry." he whispers. "I didn't mean… I just… Katniss…" A curious feeling creeps over me, and I can feel it reflected in my face. I laugh slightly.

"Please don't apologize to me." I mutter sadly. "I should be sorry. And I am. I'm sorry, Gale. It's like this -"

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "Just fix me up and truck me out and we'll call it even." Gale crosses his arms over his chest, now fully clothed, I notice, and his eyes narrow. "You do know what you're doing, right?" he asks skeptically as Katniss returns with the box.

"I'll figure it out. You didn't like your nose right?"

I figure out eventually how to set Gale's nose from the sketchy notes Maggie Everdeen had sent us with the pack of wraps and bandages. He seems satisfied that I didn't completely wreck his 'perfect' face. Gale kisses Katniss once on the cheek before strolling out the door and down the wide road with a thin promise to visit again soon. I had a feeling we wouldn't see him again until the medicinal factories were built north of town. I watch her watch him from the couch, knuckles wrapped and soothed with a bit of menthol oil and aloe. She closes the door slowly, wrapping her arms around herself as she makes her careful way back to me. A smile lifts her cheeks slightly at the sight of me observing her. She meets my gaze, ears tinted red slightly, wide eyed and anxious. Katniss slips into my outstretched arms, sniffling slightly. I rub easy circles into her back, placing my chin on her head.

"Are you sure you want me here? What if we fight and it's you next time instead of him? What if last night happens without him here to save you?" I start to pull away, the thought too horrible to even consider.

She pulls my gaze to hers with light fingers on my jaw. "It will be okay? We'll figure it out. We always do." I nod, resisting the urge to argue, and let her kiss me softly, the feeling of her lips on mine irresistible. She moves her mouth away from mine; I open it to protest as she pulls herself into my lap, planting wet kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck. I feel myself start to become aroused, member stiffening slightly as her hands work their way to the hem of my shirt.

"Katniss," I whisper sternly, but it's betrayed as my body arches heavily into her hands.

"Shh…" she pulls my shirt over my head, looking into my eyes. They're all steel, bright and happy, pupils dilated in frenzied want. For me. "Just…" her head dips down to trace my thin and protruding collarbones with her tongue.

"Shit." I say, yanking her hips forward slightly. She notices my reaction and moves to trace the other side in a similar way. My grip on her hips tighten to an almost painful degree. She thrusts her hips forward on me.

"Peeta…" My name has ceased it's lonely, tired existence as only a name. Her chirping whisper, high and drawn out, rases all it's original meaning. It is now my favorite noise of hers.

"I need you. Right now." her eyes are open in a flash at my words, yet she doesn't stop her incessant rocking.

"I thought - I was - gonna - have to fight you - for it." she smirks, words punctuated by a breathy noise. Each new sound was a new direction for my brain to spin. My erection strains at my sleep pants, pushing into her soft and warm inner thigh through our clothes. She pulls me off the couch.

 _A/N: Okay, so I know I said I'd post on the second, but I ended up getting strep throat at the end of my trip, so I was at the doctor all day on the second getting an all over check up and stuff. It sucked, but I'm okay now, and I will be posting tonight and tomorrow! I have the next chapter completely written as well - and yes, I promise there will be slight smut. Not a lot, but it's also gonna be a long one. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to favorite, follow, and review if you did! Much love._


	10. Chapter 10: Say My Name

_A little explanation: This chapter is the same as the last chapter, just written from Katniss's point of view. It was actually a lot harder than I thought it would be. I hope you enjoy it and don't find it too redundant._

 _Happy reading~_

Chapter 10: Say My Name

[Katniss]

I wake just after the sun, feeling the light gold glow shine through my room, casting only the faintest shimmer on my war, silent bedroom before being observed by the clouds. Reveling in my good nights sleep, I roll over to find Peeta's side of the bed cold and absent. Feeling the brief pang of loss, I sit up, stretching, yet unsure of what today would hold. Had I really asked Peeta to move into my still desolate home? I had rarely ventured out of the house but to hunt and occasionally check on Haymitch, but the voyages into town were few and far between. Few people had come back to Twelve after all; there was no one to see besides those that lived beside me in the village.

I hear the sounds of Peeta in the kitchen, obviously getting ready to bake for the day. I wonder for a moment where all of our baked goods go, since the portion we have seems so mediocre compared to the sheer amount he'd been preparing. Maybe I was underestimating the amount of people that had returned. Did the town look any different, more collected than the scarred, fractured remains I'd seen only a few months ago? I steel myself to place my feet on the cold floor. Momentarily unpleasant, I shiver at the contact, then rise quickly to avoid my full bladders protests. It was a cold morning, even for mid-November. The ground outside, I notice through the lowest bathroom window, is covered in a thick layer of frost, even as the skies remain wet, the air grossly thick with humidity. My mind remembers quickly Gale asleep and leaving today. A sudden wave of relief washes over me, unusual and unexpected. I wasn't sure how Gales' presence would affect Peeta, and especially as I step down my shallow quickly, I panic as I hear their hushed tones emanating from the kitchen.

I creep around the corner, knowing silence is useless when I'd made myself so obvious on the stairs. My eyes pass over Gale, shirtless with a less than happy look on his face, He brightens remarkably when he sees me. I turn my vision to Peeta.

"Good morning!" Gale says, voice slightly strained. Peeta's grip on the handle of his knife tightens and his jaw starts to work absently. I can feel my brow set, down cast in worry. Gently, carefully, so as not to trigger him, i slide my hand up his arm, fingers brushing the taunt skin. They close around his upper arm, where I can feel his pulse racing, trying his hardest to control himself. His eyes fall shut, smile slipping from his face.

"Are you okay?" I whisper, head cocking slighly to the side. He nods, but shrugs my hand off, clearly disturbed by something. Gale leans forward slightly as my hand drops, and even as disappointment wells in my stomach, I can feel Gale's firm gaze on me, eyes devouring my more substantial form. I slip a look his direction, face melting into something less than patient.

"How'd you sleep, Catnip?" Gale bubbles.

"Fine," I reply harshly, a demure look overwhelming my features. "But Gale, I swear, if you call me Catnip one more time, I will end you." I finish the statement with a humorless laugh that cuts through the intensity of my words. I expect the wink before it comes, sending a cold look and striking out threateningly. He laughs, bouncing away before I can properly reach him.

I go to follow, only to stop myself at the feeling of Peeta's deep ocean eyes on me.

"What's wrong?" I mouth silently, brow sinking deeper onto my face.

"Go." he replies, short and muted slightly by the clenched nature of his jaw. I bristle, feeling useless and stupid as he turns away to continue baking. I know he notices by the calming breath he has to take to steady himself, and I shuffle away quietly before I can further upset.

Gale sits quietly on the couch, watching me make my slow way to him. He's pulled on a t-shirt, arms folded over his chest as his gaze shifts from the window to roam over me, almost hungrily. I take my time to settle onto the couch, wandering from the window to the edge of it, avoiding his gaze all the while.

"When do you leave?" I murmur quietly. I can hear Peeta open the oven and turn my body, hoping to see into the kitchen. My vision is obscured by the shallow door frame.

"When do you need me out?" he returns.

"That's not fair." I reply, tone still hushed. "It's not like I want you to leave."

"But I can't stay, Katniss. You know this just as well as I do." He leans forward, just a bit. "Are you sure you won't come with me?" His hand catches my braid, but I twista way after a brief moment, blushing hard.

"What would I even do there?" I ask, smile touching my face.

"Help me. Keep me company. Keep me from fucking everything up." he smirks, looking away in a joking way as his fingers brush my arm. "Be with me."

I pull away, jolted to my sense by his final statement. "Gale, I…" I don't even have time to respond. Suddenly everything is like a Capitol television on high-speed. Peeta has Gale by the hair - he stumbles as Peeta drags him to his feet and thrusts him across the room. For a moment, I'm frozen in my seat watching this unfold. Peeta is rabid, a hungry monster that I don't recognize and can't possibly control.

"Peeta, what the hell are you doing?!" Gale yells. He holds his hands up in surrender; Peeta strikes out, fist moving quickly. I hear the sharp crack of breaking bone, Gale's cry of pain, and suddenly I'm on my feet.

"Katniss' don't." Gale says through pinched lips, trying desperately to hold off Peeta without injuring him. "Peeta, c'mon." My hand winds around his wrist, catching him off guard, but after only a second, he wrenches it away, cold, almost black eyes finding mine. They narrow, but even as he raises a hand to strike me, I find myself unafraid.

"Peeta." I say, backing away. "Peeta, tell me your name."

"NO!" Gale yells, grabbing Peeta's airborne hand.

"Gale!" I yell, watching as Peeta reverses his trajectory last minute, whipping around and slamming Gale's face with his open hand, Gale is caught off balance long enough for Peeta to throw him to the ground before turning back to me.

"Peeta… Please… Gale, get up. Gale, please, help me!" I whisper, hands extended as he makes his way towards me. I don't back away, even though I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. He's closer to me than he has been since the last time he was this feral. His eyes are so dark, I can see my own reflection. I can feel his hands closing around either side of my head, reading to snap my neck. "Peeta, tell me your name. Please." He looks at me, suddenly confused, and drops to his knees, hands pulling me down slightly. I cry out as his fingers pull my hair hard. He's kneeling before me, heaving, eyes wide, body useless.

I run.

I don't know where I end up, but I can't feel my fingers. He'd collapsed; why? I didn't even begin to fathom the reason. Was this all too much for me? Should I go with Gale? I realize after a moment that I'm grouched, sobbing, under the stairs. I can hear Gale's voice trying to lure Peeta back to the surface, and my vision swims through tears. In the back of my mind, I can smell something nauseatingly sweet, but I can't remember what. My chest heaves and aches, but after a moment I can hear Peeta's labored footsteps, one heavier to compensate.

I move quickly, hot in my anger. I am a coal fire, all smoke and orange flame. Peeta is ignoring Gale's grunts of protest; he looks dazed, as if drunk. I'm in front of him in an instant, silent and full of fury. "Peeta. Stop."

"My cookies are burning." he says as he fumbles against me, fighting to remain balanced. My hands find his shoulders, pushing him back as he attempts to make his way around me.

"What the hell, Peeta?!" I yell, uncontrollable. I flash back to the moment of our first Games, when he'd cut his hand on a broken vase, after my gruff assessment of his admittance of feelings. He wilts in front of me, shoulders bending forward, head drooping.

"Please, Katniss." he whispers; all his fight is lost, the demon gone. He is a withering shell of a man.

"What the fuck is your problem?" the expletive escapes my lips before I can stop it, not a word I would normally use, even in this heated of a situation. I'd grown tired of his weary disposition, the way he shrinks beneath my gaze. Gale starts to protest, but I wave him away, my eyes still glued to Peeta. "So?" I prod, what is it? What's your issue?" It takes a moment for him to respond. When he does, it's through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes.

"You." my jaw drops.

"He's right." Gale affirms.

"Shut up." says Peeta, brushing him off. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. But it's also wonderful. And I need you to tell me: do you want to stay? Or go? Because if you're happy, then I'm okay with either decision. Just don't leave me in the dark. It's already hard enough for me to tell what's real and not real anymore." he pushes past me and into the kitchen. My anger drains quickly from me as I look to Gale. His brow is furrowed in frustration. There's a clatter of a cookie sheet hitting my steel sink. I have the distinct urge to run away, to find some hidden, unknown space in my house and curl up until all the pain goes away.

Gale makes a sweeping gesture for me to follow Peeta, wincing in pain. But I do.

He stands before the sink, head in his hands I want to apologize, want to make things better but I do the only thing I know how. I wrap my arms around his still shaking form. He stiffens as my hands clutch to his chest and spread wide.

"Will you move in here?" I whisper, pressing my lips just below the lobe of his ear. I expect him to pull away, and so am caught off guard when he whips me around to kiss him. I feel that same swooping feeling in my stomach as I do each time he kisses me. I can feel his eyes on me when he moves away, but I can't convince myself to meet them, so filled with anger as I know they are. My forehead drops forward to meet the thick plane of his chest.

"I thought I lost you." I whisper against his shirt.

"No, never." he replies in the same hushed tone.

"So?"

"Tomorrow." my eyes pop open, and I see his are filled with sorrow, but tinted with hope. "Can you find me the medical kit?" I nod in response, ducking under his arm and dashing away to my mother's old room. I realize, as I'm searching her drawers still scattered with her closing and random trinkets, that there is still a lot of house to go through. My mother's room, Prim's, the office I had not entered since that day before the Quarter Quell. I pause for a moment, collecting myself before exiting my mother's room with the medical kit clutched in my fingers. I look around at the still cluttered space, wondering if maybe I should send some of the knick-knacks to her in Four. I also briefly ponder if she'll be coming back to oversee the medical factories.

Gales tired tone brings me out of my revery as I shuffle back into the main house, box clutched to my chest. I can't make out the words exactly, but the back-and-forth banter between the two men after such an awful morning brings a half smile to my face. I glance out the kitchen window before I venture to them, finding Haymitch's house and remembering his words from what feels like so long ago.

 _You could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that boy._

He is right, and I tune out the men, settling on a chair in the livingroom as they work their sketchy medicine at the wide coffee table. I bring my knees to my chest, smiling now and then at the bursts of laughter that cut into my deep thoughts. I know myself, and how unlike me it is to stick around for anyone that doesn't directly relate to or benefit me in some way. With Gale, it was the constant companionship, and even after Prim's death, it still sounds attractive in a way to have him here; plus not everyone finds a hunting partner so skilled, so fast. My family was obvious, and Haymitch… well, I owe him for keeping me alive all those times. Plus someone's got to keep an eye on the old drunk, and if not me, then who?

But Peeta had, for all intents and purposes, outworn his usefulness after he'd come back hijacked; he, in fact, probably causes me more trouble than his company is worth, relatively speaking. But something drew me to the boy. I watch him now, for a moment. His face is lined slightly. He has a scar running from his left earlobe to what can only assume is the matching scar on his wrist, no doubt obtained in the Capitol. His hair has become a curly, flaxen mess, which twins wildly from its roots. His eyes are bright, almost cerulean in color. They shoot to meet my own, then back. I note the blush rising up his neck, and resume my gaze to the window.

After too long, but what also feels like no time at all, Gale is leaving. His nose is badly set, will almost definitely have to be fixed in Two; it's only slightly better than nothing. Something tells me that he'll keep it this way unless it risks his life. It won't. Years of growing up with a healer taught me that. I walk to the door with him as he whispers a slim, feeble promise to return soon. I nod, even though I am filled with disbelief. He reaches down, face close to my own, almost as if to kiss me.

"Don't leave him. He's too good. You deserve better than me." he winds an arm around me, and I hug him back tightly, nodding almost invisibly in response to his words.

Hand raised in farewell, he strides out the door. The air is very different from how it had seemed when he appeared in the woods yesterday. I'm stricken by the suddenness of his departure, a sense of loss looming over my being. I watch him until he's nothing but a dark figure in the distance and the wet air is biting into my skin. I'm not ready for winter - it's going to be a sharp one, filled with the cold, seedy air as it always is in 12. I shut the door lightly, latch clicking into place. I don't bother to lock it. I almost never do.

It takes me a moment to work up the courage to walk to where Peeta sits, stoic and silent on the couch. I'd bandaged his hands quickly before Gale left, insists they were worse than they look. Of that I'm unsure, but at least I felt helpful. Peeta has his eyes trained on me when I turn around, a cautious tilt to his mouth that sends a warmth pooling in my belly and makes me almost dizzy with arousal. He reaches out for me, though I still feel too guilty to deserve his unending compassion. I settle myself at his side, hands snaking up to his chest as he wraps me up in his warmth. I can barely think, barely breathe, the smell of him, of cinnamon and soap and mint ointment curling off him and assaulting my senses. My want for him is irrational and confusing; never before had I felt this way for another person.

"Are you sure you want me here?" he murmurs after a moment. "What if we fight and it's you next time instead of him? What if last night happens without him here to save you?" he starts to pull away, and I'm startled, mind reeling before I can respond. My fingers trail gently to his jaw, which is hot and tight with the tension of his emotional questions.

"It'll be okay." is all I can say. "We'll figure it out. We always do." I can't hold back anymore, and my lips find his before he gets a chance to argue the point further. Our lips dance for a moment, but it's not enough. I want more.

I need more.

I'm unsure of this sudden ferocity that has come over me, all hands and dancing fingers. My skin buzzes with energy, almost electric. I extract my mouth from his, and even as he protests, I pull myself onto his lap, hands tracing up and down his arms in intense satisfaction.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers, voice stern and questioning as I push my mouth to his neck. His protests are contradicted by the give of his body into my hands.

"Shh…" I whisper tenderly into his ear. I'm hot and I can feel an unfamiliar dampness begin to pool between my legs, the growing friction between us turning my mind to putty. "Just…" I push the word out of my tight lips like a moan, reaching to the hem of his shirt to yank it off. He is giving. As soon as the shirt hits the floor, I attack his bare chest with my lips, beyond unable to get enough of him. It takes me a moment to adjust to him, naked flesh covered in thin, wire like scars to accompany the thick and unforgiving ones that match my own; we were both reborn from fire.

His hands have a sudden vice grip on my hips, holding tightly to them as if to let go would cause me to disappear. I hum slightly, distracted by the feeling of his thumbs pressed into the crooks of my hips. "Shit…" he whispers, so close to my ear I can feel the wet, hot air push from his mouth. He pulls me forward, as if to bring me closer, but the grinding feeling is so startling, yet so good, I have to make him do it again. I resume my actions, nipping and suckling and humming along the rigid line of his collarbone. His already tight grip on my hips tightens, fingers digging into the fleshy parts of me that I didn't used to have. My mind feels muggy, almost filled with fog, and he is the only clear thing. I push forward again, longing for his traction, pushing away my fears of children and intimacy and just giving into…

"Peeta…" the whine cascades from my lips, and now my face is hot. _What was that?_ I think, but push the embarrassed feeling away as I watch his eyes roll back slightly. I can feel his hardness pushing against my leg through his soft pants, and I need more. I rock, slowly at first, relishing in the feeling of him, hands tracing the smooth, slightly toned plane of his skin, warm and almost sweating in the now heated air of the room.

"I need you, right now." his voice is gruff, and it brings my eyes snapping open, though I don't remember closing them. I don't pause my movements as I reply.

"I thought -" I murmur, and it takes a second to form my thoughts, "I was - gonna - have to fight - you for it." I drag myself off of him, instantly anxious at the loss of his body, but I pull im up with me, noting his heaving chest. His eyes are darkened with want. I can only assume mine look the same. Peeta's hands travel to my waist as we stumble our way to the stairs. his lips catch my neck as I practically smash up the shallow steps. He breathes a hot breath onto my skin, lips tracing fine lines as we hasten each other to the bed.

He lends on top of me in a mess of limbs.

"Wait," he whispers into my hair. Another whine escapes my lips, and he pulls away.

"Peeta…" I mumble, fighting to pull him back down.

"My leg." he says hurriedly, kissing me in a frenzied way. "It's not… I…" I understand in an instant, flipping us so he's pinned beneath me, a wild gasp escaping his full, flushed lips. I crawl down his body, mouth scattering kisses across his pale skin.

I look at him through half lidded, lust-filled eyes as I make my way down his body. His chest is heaving, hand trailing to my hair, unwinding my very messy braid so it falls in tangled curtains around my face. I am suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, tears sparking in my eyes; I quickly dart down, hands moving to remove the plastic contraption that is just an incessant reminder of our pain. It connects us, but as I pull it off, I realize without it, I would not be here, body trembling with hurried endorphins. He would be gone. I don't let myself think, pushing the startling reminders of our first Games away.

The leg hits the floor with a loud 'clunk', and I am once again astride him. He shivers as a chill air thrusts itself between us; a smile twitches my face up.

"Are you sure?" he says. His voice is loud in the hollow space of the room. I nod.

He moves with haste, hands pushing my sweater to the floor as mine find the hem of my shirt, and I am bare chested before him, humming slightly to myself to distract from the feeling of bodily inadequacy. He brings a sharp breath into his lungs as his hands trace my flesh. He finds my valleys in my waist and clutches to them, using the grip to pull me onto him. Our mouths meet and I moan loudly at the feeling of his hot skin meeting with mine. It's like nothing I'd ever felt before. His tongue glides gently along the seam of my lips.

I allow him entry for the first time since the moment on the beach. A moan escapes my lips as he flips me, pinning me beneath him.

"I love you." he whispers against my mouth.

"I…" he hushes me with another kiss, nodding against my words.

After a moment, we pull apart, his hands gently brushing back my hair, eyes soft but darkened still. His head cocks slighlty to the side, as if asking permission.

"Please, Peeta." I say, and this is enough. We kick off the remainder of our clothes, chill air causing gooseflesh to rise off both of us. He wraps us in the blanket, taking one of my hands in his own and carefully wrapping it around his very hard member. I giggle slightly, but a soft sigh of appreciation slides from my lips, and he moans as I gently stroke the thing; an odd act. His hand dips down between my legs, searching; I give a groan when he finds the spot that drives me crazy.

"Ahh…" he pulls away from my hand, which has quickened its pace. "I don't want…"

"Oh…" I say, slightly disappointed.

"No, wait, I…" he blushes hard. I'm confused. "I've never…"

"Oh!" I clap a hand to my mouth, trying to hold back a laugh. It doesn't work, and we both end up in a fit of anxious giggles and chuckles together. "Neither have I."

We laugh again; he nods at my sudden shyness, and plants a wet kiss on my chest, just above the round line of my breast. I heave a sigh.

"So?" he says quietly, watching me. I push against his now still hand, causing myself to whimper slightly. I nod.

He kisses me, a gentle, sweet kiss, before using one hand to turn my head to the side. His lips trace my jaw delicately, tongue darting out just below my earlobe to trace the curve of my neck. My hands work to clutch at his back, soft, breathy sounds becoming louder the lower his mouth moves. He teases my breast with his tongue, tracing thin lines over my skin. His hand continues to move between my legs, and I'm confused suddenly. If he's never done this before, how does he know what to do? _Instinct, Katniss._ I think to myself, suddenly overtaken by another round of giggles. His chin comes to rest on my stomach as he patiently waits for the nervous tremors to stop, head slightly cocked to the side again. I meet his eyes, a smile waiting there for me.

"Say my name." he whispers.

"Peeta." I say, quietly. He kisses my stomach, trailing down further and further.

"Say it again," he says against my skin.

"Peeta…" I heave.

"Again."

"Oh, fuck!" I clutch at his head, which has disappeared between my legs. His tongue circles that same place rather than his fingers, hot, wet feeling causing my back to arch and hips to buck into his mouth. "Peeta…" I moan loudly, swallowing hard. I feel a sharp feeling just below his tongue, and suddenly realize it's a finger at my entrance, and I move my hips just a little more, encouraging him. It's pinching at first, but after a while, I start to coat his finger with my own natural wetness and soon enough he's sliding another in to match.

"Is this okay?" he asks me, lips moving against my core. I nod, then moan to confirm. He laughs slightly, vibrations humming against me and making me squirm harder. He pumps his hand in and out, tongue moving, bringing me closer and closer to a brink I had never reached on my own.

Suddenly he stops. I groan in response as he brings his face up, pulling his hand gently out from between my legs. "Wh…" I whisper, watching him get up from the bed, a determined look on his face as he hops to the spare dresser I have in my room. He pulls open the top drawer; I hear a tearing noise. "What are you doing?" I ask, lifting myself up as he hops loudly back to the bed, sitting on the edge.

"I… may have preemptively ordered something from the Capitol." he holds up a small, brightly colored foil package.

"Is that what I think it is?" I ask, a smile darting into the corners of my mouth. He nods, hand rubbing embarrassedly on the back of his neck. I bring him down to me, pulling him by the shoulders as I move my mouth to his. "Will you…" He pulls away, eyes wide.

"You want to?"

"Well." I motion to our naked bodies. "I mean, I think so." He laughs in response, pushing himself up into a sitting position between my legs. He unwraps the latex roll, pushing it onto his still erect member.

It's awkward at first, as he struggles to position himself correctly from over me. The head of his piece brushes against me, however, and I moan louder than I expected to.

"Kiss me." I say as he readies himself at my entrance. He complies and I lift my hips to meet his first thrust. It hurts; an almost stinging, slightly stabbing pain, and I cry out, clenching my jaw as I put one hand on him to halt his movements. "St-stop. Wait." I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Are you okay?" my eyes open, watering slightly, and I catch his own full of concern. He's afraid he's hurting me, and it fills me with such warm emotion, I can't help but catch his mouth in my own. After a moment I nod, still pushing my mouth to his. The experience of him inside of me isn't entirely unpleasant, just momentarily startling.

"Go," I say, and he continues with his slow, soft thrusts for a moment, gritting his teeth. I mewl softly as the feeling of his movements grows more pleasurable.

"Katniss, I…" I can see in his face that he's holding back, and I squeeze his arm, moving my hips up instinctively to meet him. He thrusts a few more times, and then shudders and moans into my neck. I smile at the idea that I can make him feel so good, running my fingers lightly down his back as he heaves and pulls out of me.

"I'm sorry I… couldn't…" I silence him with a kiss as he moves to clean himself up.

"Shh…" I say, as he clambers back into bed after throwing the used up protection in the garbage by the dresser. "Next time." I pull him to me, feeling utterly satiated by his quick actions. His brow is furrowed, as if trying to figure something out.

"What?" I whisper to him.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

My eyes wash over his face, taking in every bead of sweat, each line and fault in his otherwise perfect skin. "Real."

 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed that chapter. The next one is going to be about Haymitch and the time he's spent in Twelve over the last few months! We're going to depart a little bit from Katniss and Peeta's points of view, to give a little variety to the story and to try to open up my writing. Haymitch is going to have a lot of internal monologues and then someone is coming to visit!_

 _To answer the question I'm sure is coming, yes, they will be working on the book soon, since I've been ignoring that important tidbit for a while here. Anywho, I hope you liked it. Please favorite/follow/review if you did. It would mean a lot to me. You are all loves._

 _~B_


	11. Chapter 11: Dream a Little Dream of Me

_A/N: Okay, well, I've been just kinda sitting here, trying to decide how to write this chapter, and now I know. It's almost going to be written like we're inside Haymitch's head most of the time, so don't be surprised if you find him thinking a lot._

 _Happy reading!~_

* * *

Chapter 11: Dream a Little Dream of Me

[Haymitch]

"See you tomorrow, Katniss," I say, trudging away from her, the sound of the bottles rattling against my back.

"Sure," she mutters. I don't look back, just walk into my house and slam the door, needing an escape. Her dead eyes, sunken and hollow from her days on morphling, and her corpse of a body haunt me, following me as I settle onto the couch. I feel my eyes shut, knife clenched in my tight fist. The day's fly by.

* * *

 _The sky is dark. I am alone, but only for the moment. The field wants me the same way any tribute does, blue birds feral and animals vicious. I'd been running for hours, at least, to get away from the careers, from the volcano's explosions, down the wickedly tall mountain and over the long, deep field. The grass was as tall as me now, sixish feet of dark yellowed, woody blades, sharp and hard against my face and hands. I had no weapon - I'd lost it on the mountains edge when I'd riskily thought I could follow the careers, maybe pick some off. But now I was lost… I knew the edge of the Arena was around here somewhere, a sheer cliff that drops into darkness. Maysilee's voice rings out from behind me, and I shake my head, pushing forward. I knew I couldn't watch her… not again, not again._

 _"Haymitch! Please! Help me!" her voice comes from a distance, and I know I am too far to save her, but my body swings to the right anyways, pushing me to her. "Haymitch!"_

 _"Maysilee!" my voice feels detatched from my body, and I am straining not to see this again. I stumble, catching on the rocks that suddenly appear in front of me, hands stinging as I sprawl out into the gravel. She is dead, or dying. Blood spurts from a wound on her neck, and candy-floss colored birds hum around her, squeaking out praise to each other for a death well done. I can hear the sound of the girl from District One mocking Maysilee's voice. I'm sobbing, I can feel my chest heaving and my hands shaking and my cheeks growing wet with tears. Maysilee was my best friend. I pull myself to her body, watching her watery smile as her blood drenched fingers brush my cheek._

" _You… win." she gurgles, voice low as her eyes roll back into her head and I can't stop the sobs that overtake me._

 _My only friend, in here, out there. No one was going to know me like she did._

 _But what did I really expect? Even she'd said it._ 'We don't want to kill each other, when it comes down to it.' _The tears stop flowing, as I realize something. Only one of us could've won. And now, I have to come out of this. For her. For Maggie. For Missy._

 _"Oh, Haymitch, pleeease…" she drags out the word. My body heaves up, and I sneak away, running until I find the edge of the space. I skid out, I can feel my toes curling in my shoes, trying, desperately, not to go tumbling off the edge. A rock bounces down, small and fragile falling into the black space that had no end. I turn, knowing my fate, praying… hoping. My open jacket flaps in the wind, and the pebble bounces back up, smacking me in the back. I shake my head, hearing Diamond's giggles from afar, sound warped slightly. I turn, throwing a stone, much larger and heavier, and find myself ducking out of its way._

 _She appears, pale and blood splattered and chittering slightly to herself._

I jolt awake as her sharp blade finds me. Early morning is leaking through the window, and my knife, clutched tightly to my palm, wavers outward.

My hands shake, and I pull up from the couch, scrabbling for my flask.

It's empty.

I need a drink.

* * *

It's dark, sun sinking and night ebbing into the trees and grass all around. I'm not sure when that'd happened. I swish the sharp tasting liquor around in my mouth, watching as the world swims through my watering eyes. The sounds of the geese are grating on my nerves. _What did I get those damn things for anyways?_ I glance over, watching as the light moves back and forth in Katniss' house, tracking her movements around with Peeta gently. _She's a lucky girl, that one._ My fingers trace the delicate pattern on my metal flask, humming a simple melody under my breath as I rise from my couch. I suppose I should check on the girl, undoubtedly startled by the sudden appearance of her once best friend. _Damn kid better have learned his place._ I'm startled by the sound of the phone, ringing shrilly next to my ear. Effie'd had a stupid answering system set up, and I wait, motionless, for the ringing to end.

"Haymitch!" Katniss yells into the machine. "Pick up your damn phone, I know you're home, I can see you, you insufferable bastard. Don't make me come-" my hand snatches the phone off the wall, eyes rolling hard.

"Hey, sweetheart." I say softly into the phone, laughing to myself. I take another deep pull off my flask, stumbling softly.

"Are you drunk?" she mutters, and I can see her in her window. I laugh.

"What else would I be?" I scoff. "Sober? Yeah, right. What do you need, sweetheart? Or were you just calling to chit-chat?"

"Why do you have to be such an ass?" she asks, rocking from heel to toe.

"Look, Katniss, if you have somethin' to say, you better damn well say it, don't pussyfoot." I snicker slightly at the old-fashioned word, then turn away from the window, leaning into the frame of my kitchen door. I gaze around the filthy room, dishes piled high in the sink, food sitting, rotten, in containers around the counter, and sniff, shifting my gaze to the ground.

"Hazelle Hawthorne is back. I want you to hire her to clean your house, and I want you to get sober, Haymitch." her voice is quivering with emotion, though which one is unknown to me. It could be any combination of anger, guilt, or sadness, and I didn't have the time or the energy to try to nitpick into Katniss' brain.

"Nah." I say, picking at my nails as I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder. "Not interested." I snigger slightly as I hear her sigh impatiently, then am confused as the sounds on the phone shift.

"Haymitch." comes Peeta's quiet voice. I immediately straighten, feeling guilt pool in my belly, and take another deep and silent drink out of my flask. It empties into my mouth, and I search frantically for another bottle within arms reach. I can't find one, and my heart starts to race. "Haymitch, are you listening?"

 _Sure as shit, I'm listening to you boy._ "Yeah, yeah. What is it?" I grumble frustratedly. "Got somethin' more to say about my drinkin'?"

"Yes." his voice is cold, vacant of emotion. I shake my head, turning wildly on the spot, seeing my stash of bottles behind my couch, and I glare at the ropey cord that connects the telephone to the spot on the wall.

"Then out with it, kiddo." _Please, just leave me be, haven't I done enough to disappoint you already?_

"You need to stop." I pause, eyes narrowing. "Now, like, today."

"Why? Says who? Why can't you kids just leave me be and let me drink my damned liquor in peace? War's over ain't it?" I stretch as far as the cord will reach, just a few inches short of reaching. _Shit._

"Yes, but Haymitch…" I can hear Katniss' voice in the background.

"Forget it! Just let him drink himself into his grave, see how much I care." her voice breaks at the end, and that's it for me. I hang my head in shame, tear welling in my eyes.

"Fine." I whisper. "Fine." _Damn you, Katniss. Damn you, and your mother and Maysilee and… damn it all._

"Alright." Peeta says, and I can hear a smile in his stupid, too chipper voice. I sink to the floor, head resting against the wall. _What the hell did i just agree to?_ "I'll be over in ten minutes. I expect you to help me."

"You're expecting a lot there, boy." I say with a snarl. "But fine, whatever. C'mon over." I trudge over to my couch, sitting down. The world was starting to spin, a feeling I revel in even to this day. It was the feeling I loved when I first started putting bottle to mouth after my family's death. I close my eyes for a moment, resting my head on the back of the couch.

 _The rain falls hard, pattering on our old tin roof. I watch my mother move in and out of the room, resolutely not looking at me even as I sit directly in her line of vision._

 _"Mom," I say, slamming one hand on my hard wood table. Evelyn Birch places a hand on my arm, a warning look in her eyes. "Will you please just look at me?" I yank my hand out from under my girlfriend's hand, a sneer marring my features. My mother's grey eyes meet mine, so similar in appearance. I am stunned by the tears I see there, confused for a moment. She looks away._

 _"Why did you have to do that, Mitchie." she whispers._

 _"Do what?" I practically yell. Evie is stroking my arm, and I bat her hand away, frustrated by her consoling gestures._

 _"You didn't need to win, Mitch." she says even softer, so I'm not even sure I heard her correctly. "Not like that. You broke the rules."_

 _"Where in the rules does it say I'm not allowed to use the fucking force field!?" I'm shouting now, standing to my full height. At only sixteen, and now a Victor, I am much more man than most of the men I see, especially in the town._

 _"It's unspoken." my mother is practically whimpering, a simpering tone that makes my hackles rise and I stalk out the door, straight into the strong-armed grasp of two large Peacekeepers._

 _"Mr. Abernathy, we've been directed to escort you home." I simply nod, unsure what else to do. One Peacekeeper keeps a firm grip on my upper arm, and I watch the other walk to my mother's door, knocking brashly and hard, a pounding sound._

 _"What's going on?" I say, yanking my arm out of the Peacekeepers hand. "What are you doing?" I run, stumbling and catching on the uneven dirt, eyes always on the Peacekeeper, never wavering as his dark grey gloved hand covers his pistol. I hear the shots before I see the man even move, mind slowing down. "No!" I scramble forward, practically dancing on all fours for a moment as my hands catch the ground to propel myself into my mother's house. My brother is standing in the kitchen now, trembling, wide blue eyes staring down the barrel of a gun._

 _The shot rings out before I'm even at the door, and the Peacekeeper is struggling to keep up with me, even though it's barely a hundred meters away. I thrust past the first armed man, into the house, knees plowing into the floor, sinking into blood that is not my own, and not for the first time. I cast my gaze around, my mother face down, Evie and her beautiful dark hair and her cinnamon skin… I can't breathe; I pull my brother's limp form into my lap, sobs wracking my chest._

 _"Mr Abernathy, I have to insist that you come with me."_

 _"Fuck off," I mutter, pulling away from the wanting hand of the man all clad in the dark grey color of the Peacekeepers._

 _"I have to insist."_

 _"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME."_

* * *

"Haymitch." I thrash, lashing out wildly, eyes bursting open to a bright blast of yellow hair and blue eyes meeting my own. Peeta's hands are resting on my shoulders; he is unafraid, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Get off me, kid." I say, wiping my nose with the back of my sleeve. I dance my gaze away so he can't see how the tears are welling there, and struggle out of his grip. "C'mon, now."

"What's wrong, Haymitch?" he says, concern plain in his voice. His tone is placid, gentle, genuine.

"What the hell do you think is wrong?" I answer, eyes narrowing to keep the tears from falling. He's released me now, and I'm laughing. "I have to stop drinking, cause you and Katniss' fuckin' asked me to. Can't exactly disappoint you further, can I boyo?"

"What?" he replies, confused and now moving closer to my face. I brush him away lightly, standing to get as far away from him as possible in the small space.

"Look, let's just get this over with, okay? I ain't got all day." I move around the room, collecting bottles that are empty or half empty, dumping them in one pile on my floor, not caring about the mess. I'd clean it up later, probably. I'm a little uneasy on my feet, especially after falling asleep, the world moving around me like a merry-go-round, spinning heavily even as I try to walk steady. Peeta comes to me from time to time, asking me where to look for bottles next, until Katniss' old hunting bag is so full I can't imagine him fitting much more in it, and I am having trouble wracking my brain for more places I'd hidden things. _Kitchen cupboards, under the floorboards in the bathroom, behind the sink, below the sink, under my bed, in the mattress…_ He'd taken everything.

"There's nowhere else." A voice in my head mimics what I know he'll ask me next. _Are you sure?_

"Are you sure?" he says, eyes filled with worry. _God, kid, you're makin' me sick._

"Yes, I'm sure; sure as shit that you're wearing on my fuckin' nerves." I reply sarcastically.

"Haymitch, c'mon. Katniss said she'll come over here if I don't get everything." _So send her over._

"I'm pretty damn sure, kid, and if you're not, then fuckin' send her over."

He does. Katniss tears through my house like a tornado, not saying a word to me as she pulls my sofa away from the wall, sweeps all my garbage off the counters and into a large plastic sack. It starts out funny, the way she thinks that by pulling everything apart, she'll find what Peeta missed, but eventually the sounds of crashing become shattering, and I'm curled in a ball in my tub by the time she's leaving.

"Haymitch." she says harshly, "get out of the goddamned tub."

"Please leave me alone." _Pathetic, I sound pathetic._

"Get out of the tub, Haymitch." she repeats.

"Katniss, go home." I reply.

"Did Peeta get everything while he was here?" from under my arm, I watch her fingers curl around the edge of the tub, her head resting and eyes finding mine. I close them tightly, feeling like a child again.

"Yeah." I whisper. "He did."

"Haymitch, can you get out of the tub?" she asks, voice more gentle this time, as if a mother to a child.

"No, I can't, not yet." _I feel sick, sweetheart, don't you see? I can't move, else I'll sick all over you._ "I'll be okay pretty soon." She nods, then I hear her shoes moving around on the tile, then out the door. My chest starts to heave, sobs ripping from my chest. _She left, cause she can't even stand you anymore and your pathetic actions._

I hear her footsteps move through my house, she makes no attempt to remain quiet. Perhaps because I am an animal in this moment, rabid and hungry. _Scared and lost._ She returns after a moment, and my eyes are still closed, though I wouldn't be able to see her anyways from under my arm. A blanket is laid over me, and she reaches down into the tub to pull up my head, putting a pillow underneath it.

"Well, when you can, I'll be here." I hear her say, and she sits gently down on the floor; I open my eyes a crack, to see she has one hand on the edge of the tub, the back of her head resting gingerly on it's cracked porcelain edge. I sniff, moving my arm from my face to cover her hand with my own. It's peaceful, here, the cold tub and her warm hand making me feel a little more at ease.

* * *

I'm unsure how long we sit like this. Two children of war; she simply stares at the wall, humming under her breath until I'm ready to rise. It reminds me of watching her walk around her solitary confinement after she'd killed Coin, singing loud and clear. After a while I start to rise, eyes bleary from sleep. She helps me out of the tub and down the stairs to the parlor; in the time I slept, which I thought had only been a moment, she's cleaned the house; it hadn't been quite this nice since I'd hired Hazelle what felt like eons ago. I set myself on the couch, watching her move around the house once more. She hands me clean clothes, a towel, and tells me to go shower. It takes me a moment to rise, my eyes heavy from exhaustion, my head pounding from the lack of white liquor. I nod, staring blankly across the room, out the window. I can see her house, just across the way, and the fact that it's started to snow. I shiver slightly at the sight of the cold flakes drifting down from the sky. She prompts me again; I rise.

"Are you… going home?" I whisper, feeling desperate. I cock my head slightly to the side.

"No, Peeta's bringing dinner over here. Thought I'd stay with you the first few days?" her statement ends in a question, as if she's asking permission; I nod again absently. _She looks so much like her father._

"Anyone ever told you how much you look like James?" I murmur, surprising myself. I didn't speak much of James, nor of Maggie, not from before my time in the Games. Growing up in the Seam with a Merchant girlfriend gave me and James both a chance to live a "double-life" so to speak. Seam children all stuck together, and Evie and Maggie had both been good friends with Maysilee. Katniss nods in response. _Course she has, probably all she hears, Seam face like hers._ "I…" I see shadows cross over her face at the mention of her father's name, and for a moment feel shameful at my ignorance. "Sorry." I mutter. _Stupid._

"No, it's… did you know him?" Her voice lifts a little at the end, hopeful.

"Course I did, we were both Seam kids." Her brow furrows. "My parent's were Merchant, but only just. We lived in the Seam after me and my brother were born, cuz they couldn't afford nowhere else. Never got tesserae, nothin' like that. But… don't matter. Your daddy was a good kid, sweetheart. He'd be really proud of you." Katniss' eyes well with tears, and my throat grows tight. "I'm gonna…" I gesture to my clothes, and she nods. I make a mental note to tell her more stories about James. Moving to the bathroom, which is the only room that's remained mostly clean, and reach for the knob to turn the water to boiling. I step into the steaming mist, hissing briefly before adjusting to the incredibly hot water. I scrub my skin hard, trying to warm up and sober up. It had been months since I've been sober. _Months and months, and dreams and demons._

I am reminded of James each time Katniss moves through my house over the next few hours, tidying here and there, silent as wind. But when Peeta comes over, all smiles and soft voices, I am reminded over Maysilee. He has all the looks of a Merchant boy, his blue eyes awash with emotions as he watches her mothering me. _Stupid kid. She ain't never gonna want kids._ I watch him watching her, their movements are intricate and weaving. Dinner passes without intrigue, and by the time midnight hits, I am so exhausted I can barely see straight. I collapsed on the couch, knife in arms reach. My ears pick up the sound of Katniss' bird hushing singing voice from the kitchen.

"Down in the valley, there's somethin' to see, down in the valley, with you and me…"

* * *

 _A/N: I love this chapter. The next chapter will continue with Haymitch's perspective, and go more into his withdrawals. After that, we'll move back to Katniss, and then… maybe… the story will be over D: we will have to see though! I still have ideas. So, we'll see._

 _Much love for you guys. Remember to favorite/follow/review, and if you really like it, share with your friends. Have a good day._


	12. Chapter 12: Monsters in the Wall

_Happy Reading!~_

Chapter 12: Monsters in the Wall

[Haymitch]

 _Here in the valley,_

 _there's somethin' to see,_

 _here in the valley,_

 _between you and me._

 _So climb on down_

 _the side of the hill,_

 _stretch your arms wide,_

 _and see somethin, you will._

* * *

 _The sharp sound of the cannon rung out, booming and throbbing off in the distance. It sends a jolt through me and Maysilee; I'd been on watch for hours in the hollow of a large fur, her tiny body curled under a layer of pine, ensconced in the very thin sleeping bag I'd managed to procure from the now desolate Cornucopia. We'd been tracking the Career pack for two days, trying to stay hidden long enough to rid them of their supplies quietly, but to no avail. After a few hours of searching, we'd lost track of them in the heavily forested area of the mountain side._

" _What was that?" she whispers, rising up beside me. I start, then smile gently down at her, placing a hand delicately on her arm._

" _Just a canon, Maysi." I say softly, moving to pat her gently on the leg. I hear heavy footsteps, and my body tenses, clutching the short knife I'd found with the sleeping bag. I slink as far back into the darkness as I can, pushing her back down beside me._

" _Oh, man!" comes a loud voice, shrill and dark in its tonation. "Did you see the look on his face? What a loser." laughter sounds from the blackness, crisp and foreign._

" _Is that them?" breaths Maysilee from below me. I shrug, pulling back on my haunches, struggling to see through the darkness. The branches we'd pulled onto Maysi to keep her warmer hid her form from view, though I know the moment the Tributes pass us, she'll be whipping up to blow poison darts at them. The thought chokes me with a chuckle for a moment; then, as if out of nowhere, I smell smoke._

" _Hey, do you smell that?" says the boy from earlier, who I assume to be Satin, one of the two still living male Tributes from District One. A round of uncertain assent leads them away from where we camp._

" _What_ is _that?" I whisper, and Maysilee sits up to dig through the pack, pulling out the telescopic lenses I'd stolen off a career; risky, but worth it. I throw them on, squinting through the barrier of trees. "Shit." I yank my pack from beside her, shoving things into it at random: the lenses, our bottles of water, my thermal coat from the start._

" _What?" Maysilee starts rolling up the pack without information, throwing the tree branches away. "What?" she says again as she shoves it into her own pack. "Mitch!" her voice grows louder, against the rumbling sound that has started to cascade toward us._

" _We need to go. Now." I jump up, and she quickly pulls on her long sleeved shirt, tugging her coat on over it. "Now, Maysi!" she throws her pack onto her back; we no longer try to hide our footsteps, no longer care about being quiet. We just need to leave. My hands shake as I push her in front of me, the smell of smoke and the rumbling growing stronger, louder. I look back only once as the mountain's rocky edge comes into view. The world bursts into flames and ash as we stumble and then tumble down the side._

* * *

I awake, still feeling the crunching of stone beneath my ribs. My heart races, and the knife I sleep with each night is clutched tightly in my still slightly shaky hand. I forget for a moment where I am, and sit up in a bed I haven't slept in for years. The sheets smell musty, dusty, and I push out of the bed, confused by sounds in my supposedly barren house. I search for a flask, a bottle, anything to calm the quakes that move through my body, but there's nothing. _Damn those kids._ A moan sounds from my living room, and I take pause, throwing the knife down on the bed. It's not one of pleasure, I realize after a more than terrified moment, and move towards it. It's a sound of fear. I'm hurdling through the door and into the house, feet dragging against the slightly warped wood. I see her, laying there in the sheer darkness, the muddy sky hanging in the interim between sunrise and night. Her back is arched off the couch, sweat collecting on her brow and pulling her hair into clumped bunches on her face. She whimpers, I can hear her and tears spring to my eyes at the idea that she's hurting. For one totally selfish moment, however, I feel less alone. _At least she has them too._ I shake the thought off, rushing to the couch side, hands hovering over her for a moment before I gently shake her by the arm.

"Ah!" she swings out, hand catching me in the side of the head, heel of her palm smacking me in the temple. "Oh my God, Haymitch." She moves forward, sitting up as her shaking hands reach out for me. I grin gently, rubbing my face with little disturbance.

"Eh, happens." I reply, moving away. I can feel the lack of alcohol rushing through my body suddenly, chills coming over me as I flop onto the couch next to her. I rub my hands together, then shiver and shake slightly, muscles quaking. "Better?"

"Awake." she replies, sitting up more and rubbing the dream out of her face. She scowls at me after a moment. "How are you?"

"Oh, right as rain, Kat." I sneer, responding the only way I know how. "I dunno if I can do this, sweetheart."

"You can," she mutters, flinging the blanket across me and unfolding her legs to step off the couch. "and you will." Katniss looks at me for a moment, eyes narrowed. I shrug, pulling the blanket further onto my body.

"I don't wanna." I mutter, teeth chattering. "I feel sick."

"You sound like a petulant child, Haymitch." she stomps away down the hall. "I'm going hunting before it gets too cold, but Peeta will be over in about ten minutes to feed you. Think you can handle yourself?" I shrug in response, trying to keep my stomach from turning over more. "Alright, well. Behave. And feed your damn geese." She stomps out the door, waving a finger at me with a smirk on her face. I watch her run across the way to change into warmer attire for hunting. My eyes slip shut, but I'm not tired anymore. I'd slept long enough, disobeying my usual rule of never sleeping in the dark. The daytime, the light, feels more secure, less haunting and abusive. I open my eyes, glaring out the window. Snow starts to fall, thick and hard, and I can see Katniss standing in her doorway, almost can hear her asking if it's worth it. She shrugs and runs through the snow, almost gleeful in her ability to be outside freely. My eyes wander through the living room, and I shiver again, feeling bile rise in my chest. I swallow against it, refusing to let myself be weak. I trace the lines of my television, it's broken glass a symphony of pain. I'd never had it replaced, for good reason. After the quarter quell, I didn't really have a reason to. I remember watching so many bullshit announcements on that television, never quite lucky enough to be able to just WATCH the Games on them, no. I had to be there, in the Capitol, surrounded by the silly, frivolous twits while my children died

Not like I did much to help them before these two kids, though.

 _Not like the kids that were Reaped before them really wanted my help, anyways._

Being Reaped in Twelve had always been a death sentence, that was true before my drunk and stupid ass ever got hauled onto that train every year.

Even after I'd watched my family killed by Peacekeepers, their slick grey so at contrast with the sharp white it changed to shortly after that, I'd tried to keep hope. After all, I'd won for them; Evie and mom and Missy and Maggie. _Fat lot of good it did for my mother though; Evie and Rowan._ I cast the thought away, moving my eyes over the edge of the mantle.

" _Kid, you gotta want to win to stand a chance! Don't you wanna win?" I take a sip of some bitter drink I'd found on the bar, face pulling at the taste. The 17 year old girl sitting in front of me, only five years my younger, sobbed harder. "Fuck, look, forget it, sweetheart." her eyes widen in fear at my words, coughing and hiccuping and whimpering desperately. I stalk away, drinking the sour beverage in one go. Shaking off the feeling of guilt, I wander slowly through the bar car, choosing carefully. A bottle of amber liquid stands out to me, and I snatch it up from behind the counter, watching the scowl of the Avox deepen. I trudge to my room to drink and hopefully forget that these kids are dead, and I can't do shit about it._

* * *

Peeta comes even as the tremors begin to grow more intense. He lays me down, wrapping me in a blanket with a cool cloth on my face as my fever beings to spike. Watching him move around my house brings a smile to my face; he'd grown, strong and tall and fast since coming back to Twelve. Two inches had added to his height, and he finally looked his age - no longer skinny and gaunt as he did when Coin shipped him off to fight. My smile drops from my face when he catches my eyes.

"What are you so happy about?" he questions lightly; my stomach twists, though I doubt it has much to do with my lack of alcohol. His kindness is almost too much for me. I can't forget how he looked when he returned from the Capitol, how my efforts to keep Katniss safe had ended with him so broken.

"Nothin," I grumble, holding back a moan of pain. I scratch my bearded chin absently, still coddled in the blanket. _Feed you damn geese._ Katniss' voice rings, clear as a bell, through my mind, and I push the blankets away, rising from the couch. It feels as if all the warmth is being sapped from my body, and I shiver and shake at the lack of alcohol to warm me. Peeta stops me with a simple hand on my shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asks gently.

"Gotta feed the damn geese," I reply, teeth chattering. I push past him, moving through the house to the kitchen, where I keep the stale bread and some cracked corn I'd had shipped for them. _Lotta money for such a stupid habit._ I pull on a coat, worn from use, and grab up the bag of corn and bread ends, stumbling my way back to the front door.

"Haymitch, you're not well." Peeta protests.

"Better get out of my way, boy, before I make you unwell." I mutter. He moves only slightly, as if against his better judgement. I trudge outside into the wet snow that pours from the sky, feeling more like rain; thunder cracked in the distance, and it would probably storm tonight. The geese wail in protest against the inclimate weather - more than likely, most of 'em would die before the end of winter. At least we'd have plenty of roast goose to eat. I toss a couple handful's on the ground, watching them fight each other over the scraps I throw them. My mind goes back to words that Coin had said to her district, about fighting one another for scraps. I shake the thought off - war was over. Nothing to worry about anymore; I pull out a few more handfuls, feeling weak. My eyes start to blur - I know what this means; it's happened before. I barely make it back to the house before I drop to my knees, shaking, and the world goes dark.

* * *

"Haymitch… Haymitch, can you hear me?" a soft voice comes through the darkness. I am in bed; I can tell because the smell of the bedroom is musty versus a, well, frankly rotten smell from the rest of the house. I blink a few times to readjust to the light from the windows, and Katniss leans over me, her brow furrowed in worry. Peeta stands just to her side, arms crossed over his chest. "What the hell were you thinking?" she covers me briefly with her body, in what I assume to be a hug, and then leans back to sit upright on the bed beside me. Her hand finds mine, and I squeeze it before moving to sit up.

"Needed to feed the geese, sweetheart." I reply, a smirk on my face.

"Not with a fever of 103, you don't." replies Peeta.

"You're the one that let me out of the house, kid, don't you turn this around on me." I reply, sitting up further, but feeling more weak the more I move.

"I'm not, it's just…" Peeta trails off, rubbing his face. "Look, Haymitch, Katniss and I were talking and…"

"We're gonna send you to my mother. In Four. Get you treatment." Katniss cuts in. I look between them, smirk fading into a somber tone.

"You're serious." I reply.

"Haymitch, we don't know what we're doing here, and it could be dangerous. I'm lucky Katniss saw you fall, or else I wouldn't have known what to do." Peeta urges.

"Look, I got this, it's not the first time I've had to dry up, and I'll be fine." But even as I say it, I sound unconvinced. Peeta looks between me and Katniss for a moment before he shakes his head. "C'mon, kids, I'm fine." I press.

"Haymitch…" Katniss stands, shaking her head as well. "You're not. And we can't take care of you. We love you but…"

"But I'm just too much for you, sweetheart. Got it." I push down 'til my chin is just above the covers, not looking at them. Peeta leaves, grumbling to himself, but Katniss kneels beside the bed, hands folded, head leant to the side, trying to catch my eye. "Look, if you're gonna send me away, just do it already. Get me out of your hair."

"Haymitch, I never said I was just gonna send you away and forget about you. Peeta and I are coming too." she smiles. "There are some things we need to work out there anyways, and Annie wants a painting done of Finnick to hang in the baby's room." I look at her in surprise, the way she usually looks at me. I shiver slightly; I still have a fever.

"What happened? Why did I pass out?" I ask, ignoring her statement for moment.

"You had a seizure. If I hadn't come running out of the woods to avoid the rain, Peeta would've been left to his own devices." she looks away from my prying eyes. "Prim had one when she was really little. My mom only knew what to do because of her parents. Otherwise we would've been helpless. _That's_ why we're going out there. Otherwise we'd be fine here on our own. She can help you. And then, once the factory is built, we'll have real medical services here and…"

"Look, I get it, sweetheart." I try to smile at her. "Don't worry, it's okay." she sighs in compliance for a moment, and then stands, pushing a smile to her lips. She leans slightly to the left, watching me before nodding once and leaving the room.

* * *

It takes two days to get everything together to go to Four; tickets, permission, a special medical team for me, because I have become so sick with withdrawals. My hands shake, my fever has yet to break, and stays solidly at 101 degrees. Walking from the Village to the train is a struggle. I yearn for the feeling of alcohol, that sickly sweet burn that slides from mouth to stomach, leaving a hot trail in its wake. My dreams start to become hallucinations, thick with sharp instruments and the wails of the children I couldn't save. Peeta comes to me, haggard in his appearance, cursing at me.

"No!" I thrash around in my bed as hands are laid on me. "No, don't touch me!" I can hear soft footsteps.

"Leave him alone!" Katniss' voice wails above the rest. They step back, allowing her to pass through. "Get out." She steps towards me, kneeling down in front of the bed. "Haymitch, you need to let them treat you."

"I don't want to sleep anymore." _I just want to die. Why can't you just let me die?_ "I just want to be left alone."

"Haymitch, please." she whispers.

"No, Katniss, no, I don't want to, please don't make me." I sit up, covered in a slick layer of sweat, sick to my stomach. "All I can see are them, those dead kids. Those damned, dead kids."

"It's okay." she stands, closing her eyes for a moment. "Look, why don't we have some food? We'll be in Four in a few hours." I look at her, eyes searching for her reaction to my refusal to move. "Alright. Then stay." she marches out of the room, and I close my eyes, pushing back the tears that rise to the surface. I didn't want to be here. Don't want to get treatment. Was satisfied in being left alone. But here I am, on a train to Four, after four days without alcohol, and I still feel like I'm dying.

* * *

We reach Four with little trouble, two days and two nights on the train, arriving early morning to Annie and Maggie's faces looking weary and weathered as always. Katniss and Peeta and I part ways, and I am escorted to a facility on the edge of Four, eyes drifting in and out of focus as we hurtle down the road. "How are you feeling, Mitch?" asks Maggie gently, soft hands brushing over my too hot skin.

"Like I've been betrayed." I reply in a gruff tone. "What are we gonna be doing here anyways?"

"It's just a room for you to stay with medical supervision. There's someone here to see you, also." we pull up the drive, towards a large building that looks more like a manor than a hospital. I give her a concerned look at her statement on visitors.

"Hope it's no one important, I've definitely had better days." I chuckle at the irked look on my old friends face. "Who is it, anyways?"

"Not sure, I wasn't told." Brisk hands brush me out of the car, and I'm escorted up the stairs towards the doors. Inside it is, indeed, a medical facility; bright white walls and minimalistic furniture a stark contrast against the regal looking facade. We stop briefly at the desk so I can sign my name on a few sheets of paper, all legal looking stuff I give few glances to. Then I'm guided away again. It feels odd to have hands on me that are merely providing guidance instead of throwing me in a room and locking the door. I enter the plain colored room, light blue with a plain bed and few furnishings.

"What is this?" I ask one of the men as they go to leave. He almost rolls his eyes, but catches himself. He sidles over to the desk, reaching for a pen and a small piece of paper.

 **A rehabilitation center for those that have been hurt by the war.** He writes. **I, unfortunately, am unable to speak to you myself, but if you have anymore questions, I'm sure someone else can answer them.** His writing spans over four lines, and then a smile ties onto his thin features, obviously Capitol in appearance.

"Oh. Thanks." I say awkwardly. He nods, and then leaves. I look around the barren room, and my eyes settle on a vase of flowers blooming on the bedside table. They're beautiful, petals rippling like water, thick and full; they are not roses. My mind settles, and I relax onto the bed. I wait.

And wait.

And after what seems like an eternity, Maggie enters my room. I glance at the clock. It has only been five minutes.

"Okay, Mitch. I-"

"Please, don't call me that anymore, Maggie." I whisper, looking at my still shoe covered feet.

"Haymitch, right. I need to take your temperature and get an idea of your symptoms, and we can progress from there. After that, you can see your visitor."

It takes a while, especially considering I'm still feverish and my hallucinations haven't settled. But after about an hour she smiles at me gently, a hollow reminder of the girl that married my best friend.

"Do you miss James, Maggie?" I ask as she rises to leave.

"Every day." she replies. "And…"

"Evie?" I chuckle. "Yeah. Never gets any easier. For any of it." _Even after everything is over._

She leaves with a promise to escort my visitor in momentarily. I relax, scuffing off my shoes and tossing them across the room, throwing my coat over the chair in front of the desk. I open the window a little and toss the flowers out, too sickened by the sight of them. _Any flower is a bad flower._ Snow saw to that. I shudder at the thought of the snake faced man, glad to be rid of him, and lay back onto the bed to close my eyes for a moment. It's starting to grow very light out, the noon sun rising over the practically hot January air. At least, I think it's January. I've lost all track of time in my calculated living.

A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts, and I clear my throat quickly. "Come in." I mutter to the unseen figure.

The door pulls open, and a quiet and demure looking woman enters. I almost don't recognize her for a moment, her soft blonde hair falling in thick waves down to her shoulders, makeup minimal, though her shoes remain the same height as always, elevating her six or seven inches above the ground. She looks… normal, for all intents and purposes. I watch her walk across the room, then look up when she reaches the bed.

"Hey, Effie." I whisper.

* * *

 _A/N: Please don't hate me! I wanted so badly to keep writing but this chapter is already a million miles long. I love all of you, thank you to those who have followed and favorited recently, even without update. I really appreciate it._

 _If you liked my work, please favorite/follow/review, it really means a lot to me! The next chapter will be up in a little over a week, but I have a surprise for you guys that I hope you will enjoy…_

 _I'm starting another (I KNOW ANOTHER) story, called Poison Me. It's about Haymitch's life between winning the Games (so his Victory Tour) and when Peeta and Katniss won theirs. So the story will span over 24 years, which is a long time. I hope you enjoy it. The first chapter should go up within the week._

 _Also, I'm starting school on Monday (yay, college), so I'll probably have less time to write here. But, I will be posting updates to all stories on my blog .com. Please follow me there, and I'll try to keep you guys up to date on Poison Me, Hands and Fire, AND Tonight, I'm Gonna Dance. I love you all. Please remember to fav/follow/review if you enjoyed. Have a good day._


	13. Chapter 13: Trying

_So, this is the longest running story i've posted to date and I'm really excited. I don't know how much longer it will be, but probably significantly. I want to get from where the main story ends to where the epilogue begins. That may take a while. I'm gonna try to pump out a couple more chapters this week after this one, though they may be short. I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am. Sorry for the long, long, long delay as usual. I love you guys. Stay sane, friends._

 _~B_

 _PS. Follow me on tumblr at: haymitchabernathyisbae_

 _ **This story is rated M for mature themes, including sexual content, alcoholism, rehabilitation, and miscarriage (sorry, spoiler). Please be warned for the future of this story. I will post TW's before any particularly hard chapters.**_

 _ **I do not own any of Suzanne Collins' works, nor am I a paid fanfiction author. All rights to intended owners.**_

* * *

Chapter 13: Trying

[Katniss]

I awoke the morning after coming to Four with Peeta sweaty and fearful. My heart pounded at my chest like a frantic bird yerning for escape. Peeta's clutch on my wrist loosened as I slid out of the bed, just enough for me to extract my arm, rubbing my sensitive flesh from a night of vice-grip. Peeta was unwell, some sort of chest bug causing his nightmares to fuel into his waking day, and a part of me couldn't be more happy we were in Four, with my mother, and staying in Annie's house. Her son, her sweet, innocent baby, so new and fresh and alarmingly quiet, had steadied her in some unknown way. I look out the window, thinking hard. Peeta wanted children. Would it be so bad to have one, now? Perhaps too soon after everything, perhaps too soon after Peeta's attacks and too soon after my nightmares, but would those ever end? I stare at the rising sun from my standing place beside the bed, it's light yellow tones streaking the cloudless, muggy sky. Four's wet heat, this late in the year, made my stomach ache and my hands sweat harder than they do even when nervous.

I look down to Peeta, sweat from the heat and the dreams sticking his hair to his face, drops collecting on his forehead and sliding down his temple to the regrown hair on the nape of his neck. It's curled more than usual from the humidity. I smile as his age - or lack there of - and watch his chest rise and fall with sharp, short breaths. Part of me, some part I'd learned very quickly to keep hidden, was still scared of him. From his sometimes feral eyes to the way he devoured me in bed, there was a small part of me etched with quiet fear. I move to the bed, around the end and to his side, just in front of the window. He stirs slightly, foot moving to push against my upper thigh. I put my hand just on his ankle, caressing it gently, and he groans.

Opening his eyes and rubbing aginst the sleep there, he looks to me. A smile creases the corners of his eyes gently. "Good morning." he whispers, drawing up to pull me down on top of him.

"Good morning, my love." I murmur against his neck, nuzzling into the crook of his jaw. He pets my face gently with the side of his hand, and I pull down a little to keep looking out the window. The thought of Jamie is still stuck in my head, fast and feeting. He startled me, kept me on my toes, kept me guessing. He was only six months old and yet there was some part of me that still didn't understand him. He didn't do anything, and yet he entranced me, made me want to spend every portion of my day with him, coo at him… "Peeta, I know I asked already, but do you want kids? Like, in the future… maybe?" I hide my face a little, watching white, fluffy clouds float lazily across the pastel blue morning sky.

"Why are you asking this Katniss? Look, if you don't want to have kids, I'm not leaving." He pulls me around to look at him, and I flop down on the bed with a small squeak. "I told you that already." I look past him, just above his head, at a bug fluttering just above the window. "Katniss, look at me."

I look at him, tears welling in my eyes. "Can we try?" He looks at me for a second, then laughs, then stops, then looks confused and lifts himself up above me and over me. His hands rest on either side of my head, effectively trapping me. "Peeta, I-"

"You want to try for a child?" he murmurs. I look out the window again from under his arm.

"I want to feel like Annie does. Safe." I can feel the emotion building up, choking my throat, and I clear it hard, swallowing before continuing. "I want to feel like it's okay. Like everything is really over."

"We can try, if you want to. But don't be afraid to change your mind. I can wait." I nod in response to his words, pushing myself up to meet his still moving lips with my own. He quiets.

* * *

In all the time I'd spent thinking about not wanting children, I never thought about how much raising my sister had made me maternal. I coo at Jamie, bouncing him in my arms. "Why Jamie?" I ask Annie as she moves around the kitchen, a slight smile on her youthful and impish face.

"It was a name Finnick thought of a long time ago. We had a scare a couple years before the Quell and called it quits shortly after that. But… he never wanted to name his child something redundantly sea related. His tribute partner had seen to that." She stirs a bowl of something grainy, sprinkling a bit of salt onto it. "Do you think Peeta's hungry? I wanted to start working on that painting before you went to see your mother. Best to work in the middle of the day when… I'm the clearest." She rubs a hand to her temple.

"You don't have any pictures of him?" I ask. She shakes her head and laughs slightly, still running her fingers over her scalp.

"None that are really Finnick. I want to see him the way he looked… before…" she pauses. "And I remember his face, while we were marrying…" I nod and look back down to Jamie; Annie clears her throat and moves to the table just to my left, bowl in her hand. It's a beautiful, plain oak serving bowl sent by Heavensbee when Jamie was born.

"Do you want children, Katniss?" she asks, sitting down on the floor in front of where I hold Jamie on the couch. I look at her, then back at the child, a smile pursing my lips.

"Maybe. I… Well, we may be trying. But, I might change my mind. I'm scared it's too good to be true right now." I look away, out the window. The sky has become almost azure in color; a color I'd learned from looking at Peeta's new, exquisite set of oil paints. It was a color with a haze to it, too light to be deep, too deep to be pastel. Color had suddenly become such an important part of my world, something I'd previously considered juvenile or beneath me.

Annie nods. "I still get scared, a lot. Your mother helps me when it gets bad. She's a good woman, Katniss." I nod again, and pass her down Jamie. She holds him gently and rocks him so he continues his light sleep. "Will you go tell Peeta lunch is about to be ready?" I nod and stand, moving around her to step into the hallway. I hear foreign sounds as I make my slightly jovial way back to the bedroom. I hurry my steps, brows furrowing.

"Peeta?" he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling, hands wrapped tightly in the blankets, eyes streaming with tears. His chest heaves. "Oh, my God, Peeta, are you oka-" He looks at me, eyes smoldering with the feral part of him.

"No, Katniss, leave, for just a few more minutes. I'll be out, I'm good, please - go -" and I slammed out the door. I had changed my mind, right in that moment, from feeling so resolute in my want of children, and so good about our attempt this morning. I run to the bathroom, stomach contracting with sick, throat pushing it up. I stumble to the sink. Retching, I start to sob.

"Katniss?" I hear Annie's voice following me to the bathroom, where she stands and looks at me, all quiet in her posture. "What's wrong?" she bounces Jamie, then moves away for just a moment. I continue to retch, looking back down into the sink where yellow bile and bits of my meal from the night before cling to the pristine, white porcelain. "Katniss," Annie hurries in and closes the door, "did something happen?" I shake my head, laughing a little.

"Not this time." my voice breaks and I sob harder than before. It makes me gag, strangles me. I strip off my house sweater, suddenly hot. Annie looks at me and crosses her arms. "But maybe some other time. If the baby cries, if I break something."

"Katniss, Peeta was getting better…" Annie's voice is pitying almost, quiet and she moves towards me again as I sit back on the edge of her wide basined tub.

"I need to shower. Will you let Peeta know I'm in here when he comes out?" Annie nods and moves out of the bathroom, leaving me to my thoughts and the white tile of her bathroom. I reach to the handle of her tub, pouring the water almost too hot to stand, and turn the shower on, reaching up to adjust the head to pour straight down the top of my head. Stripping down, I step in; I gasp as the water hits the back of my head, hot enough to burn, and rushes over my face. A small smile slips onto my lips - I would never get tired of hot water. It cascades over my skin, closing my eyes and slipping between my fingers, the crooks of my arms. I run my hands through my tangled hair, pulling it apart gently in the downpour, then remember why I got into the shower in the first place. Slipping a hand between my leg, I scrub with the hot water that runs down my body, hoping to expel as much of the, now unwanted… substance. It was sticky on my thighs and slippery further up. My body was heavy with sex and exhaustion, even though it had happened long enough ago to fade; I was tense in my shoulders, and my neck cricked as I tried my hardest to feel clean.

A knock sounds on the door, light and quick. "Katniss?" Peeta's voice rings out from behind the closed door.

"Come in," I say tentatively. He enters. I can hear him shuffle for a moment. "Do you want to come in?" I peer around the edge of the curtain and smile at him. "Calm down for a second?"

"Do you really want me in there with you?" his voice is morose and guilt-ridden. I nod, pulling him towards me by the collar of his sleep shirt. He pulls his clothes off and steps carefully into the stream of water.

"Is your leg okay in here?" He nods and pulls my face towards his, placing a gentle kiss on my nose. I wrap my arms around him and pull him under the hot water. He gasps and laughs and wipes his face to look at me again. The moment is soft and tender, and I forgive him for everything and promise myself to not be scared of him anymore. He is no risk to me, he is no risk to a child, he can do this.

"You can do this." I murmur into his chest.

"You believe in me. Real or not real?" I look up him.

"Real."

* * *

Lunch passes quietly, with my leg draped over Peeta's under the table, shifting me slightly sideways. Annie talks about the painting, how she wants it, the size, and she brightens, knowing that Finnick's face will be forever framed in her home. I stretch and rub my stomach after a hearty meal of grains and fish and look up at the clock.

"I should go," I say to Peeta, rubbing his hand with my fingers and moving my leg off his lap. This visit to my mother would be a long one, talks about my own recovery, how to make Peeta's transition the easiest, how to ease Haymitch out of nightmares and into happiness. She said someone wanted to see me. Peeta nods and kisses my cheek as I rise to leave. I wiggle my fingers in front of Jamie, kiss the top of Annie's head, and pull on my house sweater and soft, flat, laced shoes.

"I love you," says Peeta, and I turn, halfway out the door, and blow him a kiss.

I make my meandering way across the road to where my mother lives in the Victor's Village. Four was not nearly as badly damaged in the crossfire of the war - nowhere near as obliterated as Twelve, but it still shows the scar of resistance and rebellion. And me. I shudder as I cross in front of the Mockingjay permanently painted to the ground in fluttering blacks and blues and whites. A beautiful image of a deadly fight. I tread lightly up the stairs and cross the wooden porch to her door, knocking on it. It takes a few minutes and I look through the speckled window to see through.

"Effie?" I murmur, seeing the blonde woman practically skip her way towards me. "Effie!" I practically scream, wrapping my arms around her. "Oh my god!" She looks different, hair hanging in loose waves around her face, which is almost clear of makeup, dress a simple, long garment. Her feet are bare.

"How are you, darling girl?" she says, voice lilting, accent almost gone.

"I'm…" I look past her, seeing my mother standing with a cross look on her face. "I'm alright. Do you live here now?" Effie nods and sniffs.

"I'd come to Twelve, but oh, the smell still." she prods me with her elbow and laughs a little. "I needed to get away from the Capitol. Too many terrible memories. And your mother has been caring for me, since I… Well, I needed it, let's just say that, darling."

"Katniss, come in." says my mother from the doorway of her kitchen. I look past Effie towards her and nod. Her hair, still blonde, but shorter now, falls just below her chin, brushing the shoulders of her light gray dress. Effie moves me into the house, and around me, back into the living room. She reminds me of a child, but also an adult stricken by war. No one came out unaffected. "Sit, please." my mother's brisk tone reminds me why I'm here, and I cross to her, wrapping my arms around her in a way I haven't in years.

"I missed you, mom." She nods stiffly at my words and pulls away, a gentle smile on her face. "What should we talk about first?"

"I think you should move here. For everyone's benefit." She says, brusquely, sitting across from me at the table. I take my seat opposite her, brow furrowing.

"Mom, no, Twelve is where I feel safest." I can barely look at her. She looks away from me, a self-assured smirk lining her lips.

"You sent Gale back to Two with a broken nose and a concussion. You live with an unstable man who's fit to rip you apart the first chance he gets. Haymitch can't care for himself, let alone you. No, you're staying, and that's final." I push back in my chair.

"No." I say, a disgusted look on my face. "I didn't ask Gale to come. I didn't ask the Capitol to hijack Peeta. And Haymitch only needs help, and he'll be fine. I can promise that." I stand, looking towards the living room, where Effie sits, winding a skein of yarn into a ball. My mother puts her hand on my shoulder and presses me back down into the chair. "Mother."

"Now, Katniss, you said you'd listen to me from now on." I give her a sharp look, questioning in nature.

"When?" I ask. She shakes her head, huffs, then glares at me.

"I told you I had someone who wanted to see you, you didn't think I meant Effie, did you? I'm sure you love that woman as much as she loves you, but I… well, you'll see. He's out back." My mother shows me to the backdoor and gently nudges me out of it. I step into the yard and around the short corner. He's standing with an axe in one hand, shirt off, dripping sweat in the humid climate that surrounds Four. Turning, he whips a dazzling smile on his face, just like he always does when I see him.

"Hey again, Catnip. You look good." My heart begins to hammer.

 _A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm pumping out my writing right now. Thanks for sticking with this story. Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review. ~B_


	14. Chapter 14: Her Turn

_A/N: Short chapter this week. I'll try to work in stretches instead of all at once, otherwise I feel too pressured and I abandoned my work. I hope this lives up to your expectations of my stories =[_

 _Also, to reply to a review I got from an anonymous reviewer: Thank you for that info! I try to keep as strictly to cannon as possible (even with the little information I have about the time period between end and epilogue). I am trying to resubmit that chapter but have been having trouble with ff's form submission thingy._

 _Keep reviewing! It's so helpful =D_

 _Try to stay sane friends ~ B_

 _Dont forget! Follow me on tumblr haymitchabernathyisbae_

 _ **I do not own, nor do I claim ownership over any of Suzanne Collins or the Liongate movie company. These ideas are, more or less, mine, and I do so out of love of writing, not as a paid fanfiction writer. Thanks w_w (no copyright infringement intended)**_

* * *

Chapter 14: Her Turn

[Peeta]

I'd forgotten in the time between the war and now how I'd loved painting. How my heart didn't race and my hands stayed still enough for the tiniest strokes. It gave me a sense of purpose, and as tired as I was of needing purpose to fulfill the calm, I couldn't help but revel in the idea that my talent was wanted - even needed. Annie uses small, short words to describe Finnick - I can't quite get his eyes right. They'd always had this sense of mirth and the color was tricky. She gives precious feedback as I mix colors, as she rocks Jamie in her arms. I smile and nod to her words, sketching, letting her take the pencil and create the lines around his eyes I'd missed. Finally we get to the painting and she watches as I set up my easel and spread a bit of each color on a swatch board next to me.

"Thank you for doing this," says Annie as I begin retracing the strong jaw onto the canvas in front of me. I nodded and glanced at her. She had tears in her eyes. "I miss him. This might help."

"I…" I had nothing I could say. I couldn't imagine losing someone the way Annie had lost Finnick. If I'd lost Katniss… I applauded Annie on her resolve, because I know I wouldn't have been as strong. "You're doing a great job, regardless." I say, giving her a half-hearted smile. She returns it with tight lips and rises.

"I'm gonna put the baby down. Do you want lunch?" Annie's already pacing from the room before I can answer, so I stay silent. I'm sure she'd felt my anxiety in connection with her words, but I couldn't help but think that way. If I'd lost Katniss… I close my eyes for a moment, trying to ground myself back into the idea of painting knowing full well that Katniss is safe at her mothers. As I open my eyes I realize I'd kept drawing, even without looking, and have to erase bits off the canvas to preserve the sketch. I hear Annie moving around in the kitchen and feel my guilt well up inside me for not being able to offer her more support. I know I should go comfort her, but something keeps me rooted to the spot, continuing the painting, even as I hear her crying.

* * *

[Katniss]

"You son of a bitch." I say. Gale holds up his hands in surrender as I walk towards him, finger outstretched in accusation. "You said you understood, said you knew why! You-" I slap him, "lying-" I pound my fists against his chest as he grabs me by the shoulders, "piece of garbage!" I struggle against him for a moment as his hands tighten around my upper arms, and even though he doesn't look at me, I can tell my words have hurt him.

"Do you really think I want to be here? Doing this?" Gale replies. His tone is low and cold. "That I want you to hate me? Because I don't. I'm not here for you." He releases me, and I stumble away, spitting hair out of my mouth. "At least, not _for_ you. I'm here to help you, Kat. You don't see what's going on?" I shake my head. "He's-"

"Don't you dare." I say. "I'm leaving." I turn to go, but Gale lunges forward and takes my wrist. "Let me go!" I yank away as he releases me and hit the ground hard. My breath is coming in spluttering gasps now. "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU." I scream, crawling away from him. I feel wild, frenzied, terrified. I feel insane. I wonder, for a moment, if this is how Peeta feels when he loses it in the house. Terrified. Trapped.

"You!" he spits back, kneeling on the ground. I wonder how this has escalated so quickly. "You happened to me. I fell for you and I can't walk away from you anymore." I shake my head and use the fence behind me to pull myself up.

"Learn how." I turn the corner and yank the screen door to my mother's back mudroom open; I'm only halfway through when a hand in my tangled hair stops me, throwing me backwards. Gale's large palm presses against my scalp, fingers twined through my hair, his other arm around my waist. I scream, kicking my legs out and thrusting one foot through my mothers screen door, the sharp wire cutting into my calf; I let out a yell of pain. My heart is racing, I can barely breathe, my vision blurring; fear is clouding my brain and I can barely get the energy out to struggle as he shoves me against the fence. "He's bad for you." Gale says. "Peeta - he's going to hurt you."

"He's never done this," I snap, "of his own accord. What do you think you're doing?"

"I could take care of you."

"Not like this." I pause, calming myself with a breath and choosing my words carefully. "I chose, Gale." Another breath, another pause. "I had a moment where I could chose, and I did. The Quell made me chose. Don't do this. Just be my friend." Gale closes his eyes, turning his head to one side as he begins to cry. I place a hand on his back and tuck him into my chest, wondering how this happened. "I miss you all the time. But not the you that became crazy from war, or the you that's in love with me, I miss the part of you that knows me and knows who you are and never deviated from that before my name was drawn." Gale nods and I push him away from me.

"I'm sorry." he says.

"You're always sorry, Gale." I reply. He nods again.

"Do you hate me?" he asks pathetically.

"Yes." I say, no pity in my voice. "I do, for this, for everything. I hate you." I pause. "Why did you come here, what did you think would happen?" Gale shakes his head and wipes his face with the back of his hand. I stare at him, not planning on backing down, and he sighs heavily, a tired look crossing his face.

"Your mother wanted… Well, she's scared for you. We both are - were. I-" Gale stops himself and presses a hand to his face. "I was just stupid and selfish. I thought… and then…"

"You're not the right person to do this. You're too angry." I whisper. "Now, let me go. I need to go home." He drops his arms and steps away. I stare at him. "What were you thinking? This isn't going to make me love you." I limp back to my mother's door, and enter the house, Gale a few steps behind me. She stands there with a smug look on her face, and seeing me, drops it. A haunted look overcomes her features at the sight of me, leg bloodied, limping, hair a mess. She opens her mouth to speak but before she can, I stagger forward and slap her across the face.

"Words cannot describe the loathing I have for you. You abandoned me to go home on my own; you have no right to get involved. Being the person who gave birth to me does not make you my mother." I move past her and out of the house, hearing Gale's muttered words on the edge of my consciousness, only knowing I need to get somewhere else, away from here.

* * *

[Haymitch]

The hospital itself is incredibly dull. My room even moreso. Watching the birds flit dazedly through the muggy air is the only comfort I have. The withdrawals have stopped, though, and I admit I feel more grounded. The nightmares, though, they never stop. No drink to drown myself in, to pass out and wake up without the racing heart and shaking hands I've grown so used to being without is my dilemma. It makes me yearn for the hot, sickly drink and the burn in my gut. I resist. I can't help but wish, but I resist the rising tide of want. It won't make me better, I keep telling myself. It will only make me angry.

Four days I've been here, though it feels like an eternity. Maggie was a great comfort at first, but brought terrifying ideas of where Katniss should be, where I should be. Staying in Four was never part of the plan, no matter where Maggie may think we belong. Her cracked idea of trapping Katniss into agreeing with Gale would go bad quick, and she knows, but her arrogance will always get the better of her. Always has. I stand from the bed where I'd been watching the sky turn from bright blue to the powdered color it turns before dusk begins to set. I wonder when I'll be allowed to leave.

Just as I think to ask, a knock comes at my door. The nurse who helped me in, the Avox, sidles into the room, small notebook and pen clutched in his hand. He scribbled for a moment and turns the paper towards me. _A young woman is here to see you._ I look at him curiously. "Who?" I ask. He scribbles again for a moment, then pauses and looks at me. _Katniss Everdeen,_ the paper reads. I narrow my eyes then nod, ushering with my hand. He leaves the room again, opening to door wider as Katniss limps through, left calf bandaged haphazardly with a scarf.

"What happened to you?" I ask, moving toward her. Her face is wan, covered in tears and blotchy red. Her hair is tangled and she closes her eyes in a wince at my touch. She's covered in dirt, but I move her to sit on my bed anyway, not caring about the mess. I kneel in front of her, eyes wide with fear.

"My mother." she says with a whisper. She feigns a small smile. "She's always been one to think she knows best." Tears fill her eyes at my questioning stare. "Gale was there. He and I fought. It got ugly. I shoved my foot through my mother's back door, that's why—" she gestures at her leg. I nod and sigh.

"We should go back." I say.

"Do you think you're ready?" Katniss asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. Her concern hurts me — she should be more worried about Peeta's reaction to Gale. I nod anyways, and she rises. "I'll get you checked out. We can leave tonight. I'd like to leave tonight." She leaves the room, leaves me to my thoughts, my worries.

* * *

 _A/N: this chapter got a little out of control! I wasn't planning on that fight scene, but you'll see why it's important. Next chapter coming soon. Any feedback on this chapter would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! Enjoy your holidays, wherever you are, if you celebrate. ~B_


	15. Chapter 15: Rise Me Up

_This chapter became very long very quickly, which I wasn't intending. I listened to a couple reviews I got about Peeta, specifically, and the fact that he doesn't seem to be taking care of himself. And as I look back, I realize that my writing got a little off task. I forget that we're still in the first year and a half after the war and things are tremulous as it is, without the added drama. We're taking a break from that, for a while, to focus on everyone's wellbeing, but Peeta's especially. He's always been my favorite little cinnamon bun and deserves as much love and light as possible._

 _Please remember to favorite, follow, and review. It means a lot to me and I can't even begin to articulate how it helps my writing. Thanks! ~B_

 _Dont forget! Follow me on tumblr haymitchabernathyisbae_

 **This chapter contains a few mature themes, most specifically the discussion of a severely damaged mental health complex on the part of both Katniss and Peeta. Other mature themes include a graphic description of Peeta's experience while being hijacked, and Katniss' own internal struggle over life itself. Please take care while reading this, and if you are struggling with your own mental health, put yourself above reading this, even if you love it. I love you all and I want you to be safe, happy, and healthy. There are prevention hotlines at the end of this chapter if you feel that you are at risk or know someone who may need help.**

 _ ***I do not own, nor do I claim ownership over any of Suzanne Collins or the Liongate movie company. These ideas are, more or less, mine, and I do so out of love of writing, not as a paid fanfiction writer. Thanks w_w (no copyright infringement intended)***_

* * *

Chapter 15: Rise Me Up

[Haymitch]

The train ride home is quiet. Katniss brushed off Peeta's insistent questioning and locked herself in their room early on, leaving me to sit in the dining car with him, alone.

They'd removed the bar and the alcohol for me, getting rid of temptation preemptively. I admit to appreciating it. Peeta stares out the window with bloodshot eyes. He'd been crying, trying to hide it from me and failing. Katniss had, of course, emptied her drawers at Annie's and requested to leave within the hour. Peeta had only just finished the portrait of Finnick. Kisses and hugs had gone to Annie and Jamie, but the stay was not long enough. Her face told me that. Her hand on my arm, clutching too tight, begged me to stay. But I resisted. Like the drink I yearned for, I had to resist. My stomach growls loudly and Peeta chuckles then looks at me.  
"Hungry?" he asks lazily. He wipes his face in one stroke and stands. I shrug, looking out the window at the trees wizzing by, at the sky, now a deep purple. My chest aches with the effort of keeping from spilling Katniss' secrets, with the effort of keeping my emotions in check, with the effort of resisting. I seemed to be doing a lot of that these days, though I become more and more unclear as to why. I had never held back in the past. Peeta brings back an apple and some slices of bread, cinnamon and raisins twisted within its winding cords. I thank him with a grunt. I feel like if I open my mouth to speak the words won't stop. And then I'll get chucked in the dog house, for sure. Peeta slumps back into his chair and rubs his leg.  
"Doin' alright, kid?" I ask. He nods then winces.  
"Just my leg. Too much standing. Starts to ache after a while." he replies. I nod. Silence falls between us, comfortable. I close my eyes for a moment, lulled into the satisfying feel of the rock of the train, the pull of my chest as it moves one way and then another, around corners and bends through the wilderness between districts. I can't help but chew the inside of my lip instead of the bread or apple I still have clutched in my hands, untouched.  
"Is Katniss okay?" Peeta's words startle me into opening my eyes and I gaze at him fixedly.  
"She'll tell you when she's ready. But yeah, she's fine." I reply; a half truth. I can't tell if she's fine, never have been able to. She's stoic and silent; like a dog left out in the rain too long, finally let back in when it's shivering and soaked. I close my eyes again and feign sleep. I hear Peeta rise, let him take the food from my hands and cover me with a soft throw, and listen to him

limp from the room. His quiet knock in the door haunts me as I drift slowly into a slumber I had not been expecting.

* * *

[Peeta]

"Katniss?" I whisper, just loud enough for her to hear me through the door. She's crying, I can tell by the sharp intakes of breath and the sound of her clenched exhales. "Can I come in, please? You don't have to tell me what happened. I just want to be here for you." The door slides open and I step back. Katniss is already halfway back to the bed before I can even step foot into the room. The door closes behind me with a metallic whir and a sharp thud. Katniss falls back onto the bed and begins to weep in earnest. I hurry my stride, careful not to put too much pressure on my left leg, and slide in next to her. She clutches at my shirt, pulling at me tightly, as if afraid I'll disappear.  
"You want me around, real or not real?" She asks. Her question catches me off guard and I frown at her.  
"Real. Very real. Katniss, what's wrong?" I reply. She shakes her head hard and presses her face further into my arm, prohibiting me from curling it around her. I let her continue to cry herself into exhaustion, finally extricating my arm from her grasp and pulling her on top of me. I rub her back, her side, press my hand into the back of her head. She hisses in pain and whimpers, crying still more deeply than I could have imagined. I shush her quietly, rocking back and forth with the rhythm of the train. Finally, she sits up, moving off of me to kneel on the bed beside me. Her eyes train themselves on the wall just behind my head and she opens her mouth to speak and the closes it again.  
"I'm afraid." She finally whispers. "Afraid of the future, afraid of the past, afraid of everything. I'm so afraid, Peeta, and my mother, she just makes things worse, confirms my fears." She pauses to take a shuddering breath. "I hate her for what she did to my family, to my sister, I hate her for what she did to me, and I hate her for manipulating Gale into believing that-" she cuts herself off and presses her fingertips against her lips. Her eyes close tightly and she looks pained. Scared. Trapped.  
"Do you want me to leave?" I ask. Sincerity rings through my voice. I don't want to leave the compartment, but I can't convince her to let me stay. She opens her eyes again and looks at me. They have a hollow quality to them. She winces and moves off her legs, rubbing her right calf and casting the soiled scarf away into the bin. I don't coax her into speaking; I wait. I'm good at waiting for her to collect herself. It comes when it does and I'm always ready for it if it's there. She finally leans down and presses her face into my neck, sending shivers down my body at the contact. I lay still, and like a wounded animal, she lets me.  
"No." She whispers eventually. "My mother. She thought she could convince me to stay if Gale tried. But instead he and I fought. Hard. And dirty. And I shoved my foot through her screen door. And then I slapped her and ran out. I couldn't come back to Annie's. So I got Haymitch. And now we're here and I am so ashamed." My fists are clenched at my sides. I don't feel the hijacked animal inside of me, just pure loathing. This is a change from my disposition before the war. But anger flares up inside me like water turned steam on hot coals, and I pull her onto me again, pressing kisses on her head and face and shoulders, anywhere my mouth can reach. I meet her lips and she kisses back, hands fluttering against my chest as she feels the intensity of me. I'm angry, I can't help but be angry, but not at her. Never at her.  
"I love you. You know I love you, right?" I whisper; our foreheads are pressed together so the tips of our noses touch. I can feel her smile through my closed eyes and she nods.  
"I- yes. It's real."  
"It's always been real." I slide my hands up her sides and onto her face, pulling it to mine and kissing her hard, with closed lips, just needing the feeling of the pressure to bring me back to solid ground. She encourages me, pulling me in tight, finally needing to draw in a breath and opening her mouth against mine. I pull her bottom lip in between my teeth and she gasps. "I will always, always love you, Katniss. I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. You- you have to believe that." I can feel my throat tightening and tears beginning to sting my eyes. I clear my throat to prevent the tide of emotions curling in my chest like smoke.  
"I've never felt anything like what I feel for you." Katniss says. Her eloquence makes me realize she's been trying to find the words for this for a long time and I squeeze her tight in thanks. She moves to the side of me and winds her legs in between mine, tucking her toes between my right knee and the bed, her head on my chest. I hold her for a while, until I'm sure she's very asleep, then rise and remove my prosthetic, grabbing the base of my leg in pain. I massage it for a moment and look around. My crutch is in the main cabin, which would require moving noisily from the room or crawling. I can't decide which was more humiliating so pull myself back into the bed and pull Katniss back towards me, staring at the ceiling for while, mind racing too fast for sleep. Katniss' quick explanation of what had happened at her mother's wasn't a satisfactory report. She'd been hurt, emotionally and physically, and there wasn't much I could do to comfort her. My heart ached for her. I wrap my arms tighter around her, and she sighs in her sleep.  
"I love you," I murmured. "So much."

* * *

We arrive at Twelve in the early morning. The train lurches to a halt at the station, waking me from an unexpected but restless slumber. Katniss isn't next to me in bed; I can only expect that she woke and rose and went to Haymitch or to eat or some other monotonous task, something that would take the stressors of yesterday off her already heavy mind. My mind, too, is heavy. Dripping with painful memories and the exertion of not breaking after what she told me. I need to call the doctor. I should've talked to him in Four, but there hadn't been time. There had barely been time enough to say goodbye to Annie. I sit up, swing my good leg out of bed and reach down to rub the stump of my calf. I miss my leg. I miss not having to think about how long I'm on my feet. I miss the action of not stumbling when I'm not conscious of my walk. I had never been precisely graceful, but my clumsiness now made me anxious, self-conscious, heavy.

The door swings open, and Katniss comes in carrying a crutch in one hand and my cane in the other. I remember, vaguely, having this commissioned before the war. But the memories are faded and tremulous. I smile gratefully and reach out for the crutch.

"I think I should take some time off my feet." I say as I grasp the cool metal. She nods, almost knowingly.

"I shouldn't have rushed you yesterday." she mumbles. "I'm sorry." I shrug and nod too.

"You wanted to leave. I said yes, didn't I? I could have stayed. But…" I look at her, reach out to touch her chin. "I want to be here, with you. Always." My heart jumps when she pulls away.

"I don't think that's smart." she replies. "I'm dangerous for you. You…" I push up onto the crutch and hop, one-legged, towards her. I press two fingers against her lips.

"I'm calling the doctor today. He may ask me to come to the Capital. Are you ready for that?" I ask. I remove my fingers from her lips and shift, pressing my weight onto the crutch. She looks at me, a frown creasing her brow.

"Why would I-" she pauses. "I can't go back there. Not yet." I nod. I'd accepted this as soon as the thought had occurred to me. Auralius may not even want me back there. It's too soon, too fresh, for all of us. The people who still inhabited the Capital were stronger, less prone to outbursts. Not hijacked. Not damaged. But I keep this to myself. She gestures to the door.

"Home?" she asks. I follow her out, through the train, onto the platform. The cold air of winter hits me like a fist, and I wished I'd asked for a coat. Katniss shivers in the strong wind which sends flurries of snow around us.

"I can't get home on this, not with the ice." Katniss looks startled, then turns on the spot; she has my prosthetic clutched in her hand and I extend my own, gripping her wrist. She looks down at it then frowns.

"No, you need to rest. I'll…" she steps away, towards the engineer. They speak in quiet voices while I take in the town for a moment. It had been rebuilt, bit by bit, over the last few months of our seclusion. It occurs to me that there's been few times we've ever actually left the house for anything other than hunting or to wander the few feet between my house, her house, and Haymitch's. I scan, watching the flurries of snow being picked up and carried across the rubble still lining the frosted streets. Someone had shovelled the path recently, but a layer of ice covered and was ebbed between each brick in the cobbled road. I sigh and look at the new, fresh houses, courtesy of the Capital's long overdue restitution to the less fortunate Districts. Each one had the same feeling that the older merchant housing did. The stooped shops which once stood, proudly lining the central courtyard now lay in heaps, like garbage, and new ones had popped up, as if by magic, in their place. I become overwhelmed suddenly, tears welling in my eyes, and I'm glad, fortunate even, that I can't see the house where I spent my childhood, the building my family gained footing in, the place that smelled of bread and cinnamon and where my love for art sprung up, untapped and untamed. I gather myself with a sigh, looking back over at Katniss, who nods in response to the engineers words and wraps her arms around her body. Haymitch comes out of the dining car, carrying our luggage which had meant to last us a week, but had only been used for three days. I close my eyes and lean a little heavier on my crutch, and therefore am unable to catch myself fast enough when it slips from underneath me and I tumble to the ground.

I hit the icy platform with force, the wind knocked swiftly out of me, and cry out in pain. I can hear it, rather than make a verbal effort for it; a nauseous sound, like that of a wounded animal. I lay there, my eyes still closed, and try to breathe through lungs that feel like they've been deflated. Hands flutter against my face and I open my eyes to find Katniss' own steely ones looking back at me. I can feel myself smile.

"Oh, Peeta, are you-"

"I'm fine." I wheeze in response. "It's just slippery. I should've sat down. Stupid mistake. I'm okay." I sit up, grimacing and uncomfortable. Nothing feels broken, thankfully, just sore. I'll hurt tomorrow, bad. But nothing's broken. There's no doctor in Twelve yet, which would make a break so much worse. Katniss removes her hands and leans her head towards mine, and I respond in kind. Our foreheads press together and she breathes in deeply. I laugh. "Sorry, nothing's funny. I think I'm tired." I look up in time to see Haymitch pushing a wheelchair towards me, and he grips me beneath the armpits, pulling me into it. I sigh dejectedly.

"I wish I had my leg back." I say.

"Yeah, right there with you, boy." replies Haymitch, a little harshly. "Be more careful, yeah?" I nod.

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to get back to the house. I expect it may be because I can't walk, hobble along like an old man, afraid of falling again on the ice. Katniss strides alongside Haymitch, though rather carefully, as if it's her that's afraid of falling now. She lets him push me, allows that privilege although I know she would rather it be her doing the pushing, at least as some form of steadying. Haymitch leaves us at the front door and nods once before taking the short walk across the square to his own, shutting the door behind him with some sort of finality that I can't place. It takes us a moment to get inside, Katniss on one side of me, the crutch on the other, a careful placement of feet upon the snow-covered steps. Once we're inside, the house cold from our absence, Katniss walks to the control panel for the electric heating and turns it up. I move across the hall, crutch under my arm, into the kitchen, and sit at the dining table. I roll my head back on my neck and give what feels like the hundredth sigh of the day, leaning the crutch against the table next to me. It takes a moment, but finally, Katniss joins me with a blanket wrapped around herself and another in her hand, which she passes to me. I accept it gratefully.

"Were you serious, back at Annie's?" I ask.

"About what?" she replies.

"Having a baby." I say, finishing it as a statement, not a question. Katniss frowns, then nods, then shakes her head, then nods again. I grow frustrated of her silence too quickly and rise, grab the t-shaped metal stick that is my current walking accompaniment, and hobble my way over to the phone which sits on the table, and page through the small booklet which sits, seemingly untouched, in front of it. I punch numbers into the keypad and press the phone against my ear. I can hear Katniss get up, but don't look over. Her footsteps pad towards me, and she wraps herself around me, blanket tucked between her fingers. I want to shrug away, ask her to give me space, ask her not to listen, but I can't. I won't. She needs to hear this, deserves to hear what he has to say.

The phone rings. I wait, patiently, impatiently, I can't tell. My emotions have become a sliding scale of bad and good and anything in between since leaving Four. The phone continues to ring; which each buzzing tone I get more frustrated, and I can feel Katniss' fingers pressing into my chest, and her breath against my back. I close my eyes, trying to focus on those sensations, to ground myself. Finally, after what may have been an eternity, a voice answers the phone, a familiar, slightly sharp yet drawling, male voice.

"Good afternoon, this is Dr. Bernard Auralius, how can I help you?" There's a pause on the other end of the phone.

"Dr. Auralius, it's Peeta," I say into the mouthpiece. Katniss presses a kiss to my back then steps away from me. I hear her walk from the room, then the creaking of the stairs. She's giving me the privacy I'd wanted, but now I almost wish she hadn't.

"Peeta! So good to hear from you." he pauses again. "Where are you calling from?"

"This is Katniss' number." I say, unsurprised he doesn't recognize it.

"I see. Well, how are you?" he asks.

"I've been having a lot of… attacks lately." I murmur. Auralius clears his throat; I can almost hear the pen he undoubtedly has clutched in his fingers, the scribbled handwriting that's barely legible.

"Okay, anything in particular triggering them?" he asks. I can feel the pressure in his voice, as if he's holding back some unknown truth, a question burning to escape him.

"I can't tell really. Katniss is there usually. Stress, anger?" I'm at a loss for words, a first for me.

"Is it ever when you two fight?"

I take pause. I hadn't considered this possibility, but looking back on the time we spent together, she'd always kept me grounded, even when heated. I think of the moment in the kitchen, and even though it felt like months ago, it had really only been weeks. She'd yelled, pushed, prodded my buttons, and I'd stayed here, fists curled in desperation, but here.

"No." I reply shortly. I bite my lip, almost copying her. "No," I continue, "it was never her. She always kept me… here. After the war, it was always her that kept me safe."

There's a hum of curiosity on the other side of the phone. "Do me a favor, Peeta, and as detailed as you can without triggering yourself into it, can you describe to me what happens, what's going through your head? As much as you can remember."

 _It's dark. The cell is, and the room itself, though the tank of water they keep next to Johanna's cage is well lit, casting shimmering waves of light over the room. I can hear her whimpering; I wish she'd stop. It hurts to hold back my yells of rage, but I do it anyways. Each moment that passes is like physical agony. The images flash through my head like a hail storm, hitting the backs of my eyelids. The door slides open; it can't be time yet, please, tell me it's not time yet. But it is. Dark, latex-gloved hands pull me out, and though I thrash and scream and try to fight, I'm weakened by the lack of food, the small cell in which I am a prisoner allowing for so little room to move. He drags me, practically pulling my shoulder from it's socket, down the hall, into the room I dread, that I have never wanted to escape more in my life. The Games are nothing to this. The Games are just that: a Game. This… this will end me._

 _It's dark. But now I'm inside my head, or, I think I am, and there's Katniss, tears streaming down her face as she pulls back an arrow and aims it at my head. Her mouth opens but I can't hear what she's saying, only my scream of agony as something like ice, no, fire, tears through me. I can feel it in my veins. She transforms, a grin of malice coating her features, fingers turned to claws, teeth like that of a wolf: a Mutt. She's a Mutt and I can't outrun her. It grows dark again and there's Twelve, my parents, the village square, the Seam, where I could never set foot, Victor's Village, my home, Katniss' home, Haymitch's home… Then it's gone. Smoke billows from the places that once stood so tall and glorious, but not the Village. Katniss stands, watching the rubble fall._

 _I open my eyes a fraction every few minutes. Each time I do, blinding light hits me, as if from a flashlight beam. I snap them closed again, and there's nothing but darkness._

 _This time is different. I open my eyes and there's still nothing. I think my eyes are open. I can't reach up to touch my face, I'm still cuffed. Every passing second feels like an eternity. There's a man standing over me, his hand on either side of my head, his eyes brightest blue. I look at him._

 _He is me._

I can't speak anymore, and the doctor doesn't make me. I've given him enough he says. Tells me to call him in a few days if anything bad happens.

"I'm sending you a sedative and an anticonvulsant. That should help for a while. If it doesn't, call me back. It will take about a month for you to notice anything with the anticonvulsant. It's mostly used when we have patients with severe seziure disorders, but I think it might help you. It's the lightest thing I have, and I'd like to see you, here, before we try anything else." He pauses; I can hear papers rifling, and Katniss' footsteps coming back downstairs. "The sedative you should give to Katniss to hold onto. They're only to be used when you need them. They're not for every day. Serious side effects if you use them every day, Peeta. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yeah, I gotcha." I reply. I feel oddly drained. I look over at the doorway. Katniss has our mugs in one hand, her fingers wrapped around both handles, and a few books in her other arm. She leans against the doorway and smiles at me encouragingly. "I think I can make it out there next month."

"How about a month from the first day you take your medication?" asks Dr. Auralius.

"That sounds perfect." I say softly. I nod as he says goodbye, place the phone on the hook. I cock my head at Katniss and give a gentle smile. "I love you." I whisper.

She frowns then gives a short bark of a laugh. "I love you, too." she says, confused. "What brought that on?" I shrug and push against the ground with my crutch, hopping my way towards her. "Do you want tea?" she says, but before she can even hold the mugs above her stomach, I've pressed up against her, my lips meeting hers with a fervor I haven't expressed in what felt like too long. I nod even as I slip my free hand behind her neck and twine my fingers through her hair.

"Yes." I breathe as we pull apart. Her eyes remain closed and her lips are slightly parted as she breathes heavily through her mouth.

"What?" she replies. She opens her eyes and looks at me, then down at the mugs pressed between us and shakes her head, as if to bring her back to consciousness. "Oh, right. I'll start some water."

I make my way back to the table as she sets down the stack of books and begin to riffle through them. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Poe; apparent classics from different parts of an unknowable, almost intangible world, a world before us, before Panem. The language is different, heavier, more verbose. I feel as though I'd been born in the wrong time.

"Are you okay?" I ask, glancing up at her from the back cover of _A Canterbury Tale_. She shrugs, not turning. "Katniss?" I ask again.

"No." she replies. She turns on the burner and then turns away from the stove, facing me as she leans against the counter. "I can't decide if it's because of my mother not trusting me, or you, or if it's because of this somehow unforseen betrayal that Gale threw at me, or if it's because I don't know if we did the right thing trying to 'help' Haymitch, or if it's because my heart is screaming that a child would be wonderful, but my mind is falling apart every single day. I can't sleep, I can't eat. My heart and my head hurt." She stops and closes her eyes, her brow furrowing deeper than before. "I love you and I am so scared of that, and what it means to be loved." I'd never heard her speak like this. It was usually such clipped sentences, stumbled and muttered through so she didn't have to be responsible for her words, but this is so much more.

"Keep going, Kat." I whisper. "I'm listening." Katniss opens her eyes slowly and looks at me, but her frown doesn't go away. She crosses the room and sits at the chair across from me, looking at me. Her eyes scan my features, and I scan hers. The graft took well. It's starting to blend with the rest of her skin along her temple, though it's still pink in places. It would never turn fully. She would look in the mirror for the rest of her life and see it. Just like me; it would become a daily routine; to see it, to ignore it.

"I wanted to die. At first, when she… I wanted to die. And then I wanted to live, out of spite. Because fuck, if I were to die, just… give up, after everything Snow did to me, to us, to everyone, and the Coin… I couldn't do it. And, so…" She shrugged. "I kept going. But I did, I gave up. When I saw you, outside my house that day, that's the first time I'd been outside since getting home." She paused and looked out the window. The sun was setting, a misty, reddish light in the cloudy, grey sky. "There are days when I still can't breath. There are days where I wish I wasn't breathing. And I can't explain, can't… contest… this feeling of being so utterly satisfied by your presence and feelings that… won't go away."

I reach across the table and take her hand. She looks at it, then back at me, then back out the window. "They'll never go away." I say. She looks at me with alarm in her eyes. "Neither will I, though." a tightlipped smile crosses her face, and then the whistling of the water kettle makes us jump.

"I love you." she says, as she pulls her hand away.

"And I love you." I reply. "We're okay." For the first time since we'd seen each other so many months ago, we both knew there was no need for it to be said; it was real.

* * *

 _A/N: A little bit of a cheesy ending to this chapter. The next one is gonna be smut city, less down feelings, and Peeta gets his meds!_

 _ **If you are struggling with your mental health in a way that makes you feel unsafe, please seek help. If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide and wish to seek help, please call these numbers:**_

 **Toll Free USA:** **1-800-273-8255**

 **UK:** **+44 (0) 8457 90 90 90 (UK - local rate)**

 **France:** **01 45 39 40 00**

 **Canada: 911 for emergencies,  
** **Ontario:** **+1 (905) 688 3711  
** **Montreal: (514) 723 4000  
** **Alberta: 403 327 7905  
** **British Columbia:** **1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)**

 **Japan: 03-5774-0992**

 **Mexico:** **(55) 5259-8121**

 **Spain:** **717 003 717**

 **Germany:** **0800 111 0 111**

 **Please look online if you don't see your country here. Wikipedia has an entire list of suicide crisis hotlines.**

 **I love you all. Stay safe.**


	16. Chapter 16: Honey You

_A/N: I'm sorry if the long breaks between chapters is irritating to people. I work full time and have school full time, but I will make it my goal to update more between now and June. Thank you for your patience!_

 _This chapter will defo be a little lighter than the last one. I already have a set up scene going in my head that I've been thinking about a lot._

 _If any of you attend school in America, I hope you're having a good spring break! If not, I hope spring is beautiful for all of you, because I know it is for me, where I am. This chapter I'm planning on being a lot more mello._

 _Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite. It really helps boost my story to get more information on how I can do better. Also, follow me on tumblr at haymitchabernathyisbae - I'm gonna try to post more consistently on there starting as soon as I get back from California (which is where I'm on vacation currently). If you have any questions or concerns or helpful tips about the chapter/the story, please send them my way either by review or by DM. I try to reply as often as possible._

 _THANKS! ~B_

* * *

Chapter 15: Honey You

[Katniss]

Peeta was out, picking up the mail and his package from the doctor at the train station. I'd told him I'd stay behind to start dinner, and I would. I'd start dinner as soon as I was done setting up for when he was back. I'd moved the furniture from the main sitting area in the living room, stole upstairs for blankets and pillows and laid them out over the floor. Several dozen candles sat, unlit, several feet away, and the wood I'd brought in from the pile, covered in snow as it was, was laid carefully in the fireplace, to be lit when he was here. To help. It had been my plan all morning, then all afternoon, from the moment he talked about checking the mail. He didn't leave until just before six, and I could expect him to take a little over half an hour to make it to the train station and back with his leg bothering him as it has been.

But my plan was in motion.

A picnic. Peeta and I had never gone on a picnic; I wasn't sure it was a luxury anyone could afford before the war. It was still snowing - mid-February brought the most snow and the harshest cold every year. The picnic would have to be inside.

So, I'd set it up. The candles would be lit just before Peeta got home in about twenty minutes. Dinner wouldn't take long. I'd had Sae pick up cheese and thin cut, cured meat from the order I'd given her about a week ago. There would be grapes and oranges and a bottle of sweet, deep red wine that I'd thought about on and off since our first games. I pull down a baguette that Peeta had made earlier in the day; it still smells so good, and it crunches as I squeeze it gently between my fingers. I take a long pause and ponder what I'm doing. The importance of it. Of him. I lean against the counter and close my eyes, thinking of the week we'd had, together. The times we have together; beautiful and unstoppable. And I remember what Haymitch had said to me so long ago - ' _you could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him_ '. My heart drops. I wonder if it could be true now, after everything. Do I not deserve him?

I shake the thought out of my head. Today, today is one year to the day that I saw him for the first time since the war ended, and it's important. I pull the bread out of its paper sleeve and begin to cut it carefully into thin slices, perfect for the wedge of creamy cheese and thin slices of meat I already have laid out on a wooden board. I open the bottle of wine and carry it and the board of bread, cheese, and meat into the living room, carefully setting it down on the blankets. I looked at the clock. Ten minutes. It would be just enough time to start a fire in the unused fireplace and light the candles.

As I was adjusting the floo to open, the sound of Peeta's footsteps on the stairs startle me. I grab the matches and begin quickly lighting the candles around the room as he enters the house.

"Katniss?" He says as he stumps into the room. His voice quavers with curiosity as I stand up quickly and shake the match to put it out. "What's going on, love?" I smile a little then gesture around.

"Picnic?" I suggest. He smiles, a wide, bright smile, and my heart beats a little faster in my chest. He nods enthusiastically, moving to the kitchen to set down the few letters and package he had clutched in his mittened hand. When he comes back, I notice he's leaning a little heavier on his cane than he was when he left, but his coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and boots are off. "Are you okay?" He nods and then looks at me. There's a glint in his eye, almost mischievous, and he lowers himself carefully onto the floor, one hand still clutching his cane, the other pressed against the wall. He sits on the floor and stares at me for a moment, then gestures for me to sit beside him.

"The fire," I say in a whisper. I lean over the hearth, breathing in slowly as I light the long fireplace match and set the tinder ablaze. For a moment I'm reeling, moving back in time, lost to the fires that consumed us as I watch them spark and light the thin cut logs, then the bigger ones. I'm trapped in this halfway space between remembering and refusing to remember.

"Hey," says Peeta, and his voice snaps me out of my dangerous thoughts and back into reality - a reality where Peeta sits in front of me, patiently waiting for me to sit down. I gaze at him, grounding myself, and sit.

* * *

We sat, and we ate, and we laughed. There wasn't much talking, there didn't need to be. As full as he was of words, I had none to give, and he sat with me in a comfortable silence that stretched through our shared glances. I felt like a child. Finally, Peeta breaks the silence with a glance and a smile.

"This is the most wonderful thing anyone's ever done for me." he says, pulling my hand into his. "Thank you, my love." I lean down and kiss his hand. He takes my face in it, pulling me to his lips with a nervousness I hadn't expected. We'd become so close, so quickly. My heart continues to race, as it had all night. I kiss him, my mouth opening quickly in a sigh that lingers through the warm air as the fire continues to smolder in the fireplace. He pulls away from me and cocks his head to the left. "I love you." He whispers.

"I love you." I reply. We stare at each other for another minute, and then I rise, taking the now empty cutting board and our empty wine glasses. My head is fuzzy from the half bottle of wine. I set the board down and lean against the counter for a moment, staring out the window into the darkened forest which sits behind my house. I remember the painting Peeta brought me in those first days - I remember my fear of a burning house. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I can hear Peeta humming in the next room, a slow, sad song somewhere between The Hanging Tree and Mockingjay. I make my steady way back into the living room, wrap my sweater tighter around myself, and watch him.

His eyes are closed, his head hanging back heavy on his neck. He has a sweet, low voice which makes the hairs on my neck stand up. It's a good feeling. I clear my throat a little. "Peeta," I ask as he looks at me, "do you want to go upstairs?" There's a knowing smile on his face now, one that brings warmth to my limbs and rekindles my racing, fiery heart.

"Yes."

* * *

There is a moment I experience, in the middle of the night, when my body sets on fire if I can't sleep. It's not the same sort of burning I experience in my nightmares. It's separate; it's a heat I can't rationalize and it comes from the core of my being and spreads into my fingertips. A heat that consumes me inside and out, that takes what it wants and gives only hot breaths that contain no protest. It's a want - a need. A desire. Thanks to Peeta, it never goes unfulfilled.

Tonight, after all the wine and warmth from the fire that still simmers behind the grate of the fireplace downstairs, it happens. Earlier, before sleep is attempted, while he's holding me, kissing me on my forehead, the bridge of my nose, the tips of my cheek bones, my ears, my jawline. Each kiss feels electric. There's a current running over me, soft and sensual. My heart is pounding - there's no quelling the thrall of him. I can feel my body leaning into his, I can feel the traces his hands leave behind. It's all so much. Too much sometimes, but now… perfect.

I never thought I'd be one to say that word - 'perfect'. But his love, the pressure of it, soft but firm, hard but gentle… it keeps me here, grounded, in the moment. It's easy to enjoy. It feels almost unreal.

Peeta presses against me more firmly, but I move suddenly so I'm astride him. I look at him with half lidded eyes and press my hips into his, listening to the groan escape him, swift and compressed. He squeezes my sides with strong fingers, pressing the tips into them, pushing a whimper of pain and longing from me as I run my hands along his abdomen, planting them on his strong chest, and press down again, harder this time. I feel him grow hot and hard against me. Everything in me is screaming for him. I grab his arms at the wrists and pull them off of me, falling forward onto him and holding them above his head. He groans and growls and looks at me with dark eyes that are filled, not with violence, but heat. My heat.

He flips me now, and I'm pinned beneath him. I nod vigorously, not even waiting for him to ask the question. I want him, I need him. I wiggle out of my clothes and pull his pants down. I wrap one hand around him and the other around his back and begin to stroke, hard and fast. He groans.

"Katniss, fuck-" I cut him off with a crushing kiss as I move my hand to his neck and begin to guide him into me. And then it's just us. I gasp. My heart stops, it feels like. I've been waiting for this moment all day; I've needed this. He thrusts hard, harder than normal, and a gasp then smile against his mouth, which is still pressed, unmoving against my mouth. The smile makes him respond viciously. His kiss is bruising. He moves down, kissing my jaw and my neck; he suckles on my skin as he continues to push himself into and pull himself out of me. Each wave rocks me to my core. Each one brings me closer to some undefinable, indescribable edge. I live and breathe these moments, where it's quiet save for the sounds we make for each other. I can't pretend not to notice his hesitation, however, as he presses himself against me more erratically, as his breathing becomes more labored. He releases my mouth and stares at me.

"Are- are you sure?" he breathes. I nod, almost helplessly, and press my nails into his back as it becomes too much, and I am overtaken by some senseless heat. He follows suit soon after, and collapses against me. I press my face into his sweaty, still shirt clad chest, and he rolls off of me, towards the edge of the bed. I follow him and wrap my arms around his waist.

"I love you." I say. Concern furrows my brow as he gently removes my hands.

"I'm scared, Katniss. What if this…" he trails off then turns back towards me, laying sideways on the bed to stare into my eyes. "What if this medication works too well? What if I turn into someone I'm not?" His eyes are filling with tears. "What if it makes me cold and empty? I've read all the books, all the reports I could get my hands on while we were in Four. I had Aurelian send me information and sheets and documents telling me exactly what could and probably would happen and-" I press one finger to his lips to silence his rambling and then move to kiss him.

"If it doesn't feel right, you tell him." I say. I'd never been good at words, and in this moment it strikes me that I don't have to be. He'll take what I say, stuttered or grunted or whatever. I smile at this. "I love you." I repeat. He nods and wipes tears away from the corner of his eye. "Come whatever."

"Real?" he whispers.

"Yes, real, of course." I frown. "Peeta, of course real. Always real."

* * *

He begins his meds in the morning. One small yellow pill with one whole glass of water and a protein based meal. He hands me the other bottle, a narrow bottle with twenty long, ovular pills. There's a long, wide warning on the side of the bottle which reads: **WARNING: IF OVERDOSE OCCURS PLEASE CALL EMERGENCY SERVICES.** I tuck it away quietly into the pockets of one of my unused, fancy winter jackets and trot back into the room. Peeta's sitting at the table eating quickly. He looks at me then back down at his plate.

"I have to go out for something, but I'll be back later. If I need help, I'll send for you." he says quietly as he gnaws on a bit of toast. I look at him curiously. "I'll tell you when I know what's happening, okay?" I nod and sit across from him. He takes my hand in his as kisses it as he rises from the table. "Love you."

"You too." I say.

* * *

The house is quiet without him, which is fine. It gives me time to think, to process, especially since he's careful, and he hasn't had to send for me, yet. I have emotions yet unchecked inside my head, and no way of resolving them. The phone stares at me as I wait for the water to boil for tea. It's peppermint. It reminds me of days when things were hard, but simple. Normal. Normal is a strange word to think now, with everything turned upside-down. The end of the war proved this to me - Coin, with her traps; Gale, with his bombs; my mother and her betrayals. Everything is incomprehensibly different in ways I couldn't have fathomed before the war. The love Peeta has shown me over this year has made me better. I'm less afraid of the demons that plague me at night. He keeps his clothes and painting things here. He leaves for hours but always comes back.

It makes me wonder what he's doing. Where does he go for these long days? Where does his life exist outside of this house? I pace anxiously, fingers worrying a spot on my cheek and teeth chewing my lower lip between them. It's six in the evening, he left early this morning, before I rose. I don't feel the sting of jealousy I know I could feel, because why would he do anything requiring jealousy? I trust him. No, I feel nervous, a pounding in my chest that doesn't subside until I hear his footsteps tromping heavily up the wooden stairs and his key in the lock.

He finally convinced me to start locking the door.

* * *

[Peeta]

The winter is coming to an end. March brought early blooms sprouting out of the ground amid blusters of frost and flurries of small, hard snowflakes. This is the world we live in, one made of hard frosts and heavy winds. I make my way into town, watching my step over the rubble which is still covered in a thin layer of ice from the night before. It's early, now. The sun has barely risen over the treeline and my vision is constantly fogged by my own breath and the haze of the early morning glow. I trace a now calculated and practiced step from my home in the Village to the Square in the center of town. It sends me reeling each time I step into it, the houses around it either rebuilt from the surrounding rubble and lumber shipped in on long, flat pallets from Seven, or fallen. Gone. Forgotten? _No._ I think, _No, there's no way._ Things haven't been forgotten, not here. The war, the catastrophic affects, the darkness that enveloped some of us during it… As long as we exist, it will never be forgotten.

I make it to the square quickly this morning. My artificial limb doesn't ache as much as it could today. I'd spent all day on my feet yesterday, planning this surprise for Katniss. Today would be the day.

As I look up at the building that I'd commissioned the moment I'd made it back to Twelve, my heart leaps. It doesn't look the same, not at all. It's a little more modern, has a little bit of every district embedded into its walls. I smile and walk through the door, hearing the chiming of the bell I'd hung there yesterday. The walls are a stark white, the glass fronted cabinets filled with a soft yellow light, their metal shelves catching it and bouncing it around the cases, towards the mirrors that lined the sides, against the barriers that separated each case from the other. There's a counter made of pine and polished graphite, lights hanging from the ceiling.

Thom, one of the miner boys from before the war, steps around the corner from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag and smiling at me. There's a darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before the war, but his smile reaches them anyways, lighting them just enough to make them seem less hollow. He walks towards me with an outstretched hand, and I switch my cane in time to catch it and shake firmly. He gestures around him.

"So, what do you think?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

"It's perfect. Your team did an amazing job." I reply.

"Just trying to help. You probably won't get much business, not until the word spreads that Twelve is back on its feet." Thom says thoughtfully. I nod, then step towards the kitchen.

"Kitchen's not done yet." says Thom.

"That's fine. I just wanna see the progress. Are we still waiting on ovens?" I ask.

"Ovens, a couple more stoves, and two…" he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper with a list written on it. "Induction cooktops…" he looks at me.

"Sounds right." I enter the wide door that goes into the kitchen. My heart swells a little more as I look around the spacious room. There's three workbenches, metal covered with shelves beneath them. On the wall closest to me are a series of refrigerators, all labeled with what their contents will be. On the far wall, there are squared off spaces on the floor and the wall for my ovens, stoves, and shelving units. I sigh in satisfaction. "This is wonderful. I can't believe this is happening."

"But it is, Peeta." says Thom. "And you both deserve it." There's a moment of appreciative silence between us, where we both understand the meaning of his words but don't elaborate. It passes swiftly, and I nod to him.

"I'm going to get Katniss. She deserves to know now, even if it isn't done." I say.

"Don't you wanna see the space above?" he asks. There's a curious glint in his eyes.

"Space above?" I reply, confused.

"I know you didn't commission it but… Come with me." he leads me outside, up a flight of stairs to a small and quaint room. The kitchen is little and slightly cramped, with a gas stove and a wide, shallow sink. There's a sitting area, with a small coffee table. Opposite the sink is a counter with two stools. I move further into the house and see behind a makeshift wall, a small bed, a night stand, and a vanity. I turn to him.

"Is this for Katniss and I?" I ask with surprise. Thom nods.

"A gift, from all of us. Figured you'd want to be close to the bakery, so you wouldn't have to walk so far." he replies. There's a nervous tone in his voice. "I'd understand if you didn't want to. It's not really ready yet. I still need to put in a bathroom and figure out a spot for the desk."

My brow was furrowed as I watched this man I barely knew talk about what still needed to be done in a home that was given to me by a burned and barely scraping by district. My heart raced and I walked forward, wrapping him in a brief but firm hug, my cane knocking against his back. I appreciated Thom more than ever in this moment, for agreeing to bring on his team for a job that he wouldn't make money for months, for doing this. He pats me twice on the back and I let go, moving away swiftly to secretly wipe tears from my eyes. I'd never been a big crier as a child. Katniss had opened me somehow, made me vulnerable in a way that was new, exciting, and intimidating. I can still feel her skin from last night, warm and soft and damp from sweat and a shake that thought away.

"Peeta, your… you and Katniss did this country a great favor. Your team. Your sacrifice won't be forgotten or go away. You'll always be our heroes." I shrug and wave him off. The sentiment of 'hero' makes me uncomfortable.

"I have to go get Katniss." I say, moving towards the stairs.

Once back out on the street, Thom parts from me and makes quick work of the square on his way to see Delly, her house being a little off the square. I think about all the people who've come back, who live in the square or just out of its line, who rebuilt the seam to be sprawling, beautiful, with houses made of oak and pine and cherry, all woods sent to us by the Capital, courtesy of District Seven. Each beam is fresh. Some of Thom's team stands a little aside from the entrance to the Seam, talking to Sae and drinking cups of steaming liquid, presumably coffee. I smile and nod as I pass them and make my way up the sloping hill to the Village, where I know Katniss is waiting.

It takes me a bit, especially since I'm going uphill most of the way. Each step is careful, calculated. The ground here is still a little frosty, even in the mid-morning sun that snakes its way through the clouds and catches briefly in my eyes. I shade them with my free hand as I crest the hill and look towards the house I've shared with Katniss for over a year. The primroses in her front yard will bloom soon. It's remarkably stark, I realize now. Light blue, white trim, no ornamentation. Nothing like her house in the Seam which, though run down, had character and a quaint sort of run-down air. I felt like this house, the one we lived in, the one given to us by the Capitol in the time before… it's just a reminder of all the things that were wrong, that were… bad.

I climb the stairs and the door is opened quickly in front of me, and there stands Katniss, a spot on her face a little more red than it was when I left and her lip worried by her teeth. Her hair is up and messy, her clothes still the baggy nightclothes she put on this morning when it was so cold in her room we could barely breathe for it. She smiles at me.

"You're home."

"Briefly. Come with me, I have something to show you." Katniss frowns at this.

"I need to change."

"Well, alright." I reply. I think this is perfect, but only because it's easy to peel off in moments of need. She runs back through the house, and eventually I can hear her opening and closing her drawers quickly. She's back down in a flash, her fathers jacket slung over her shoulders, still far too large for her but endearing nonetheless. She wears a pair of loose-fitting pants and a house sweater now.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"You'll see." I say with a wink. She takes my hand in hers as we make our winding, slow way back down the hill and into the main town.

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 _A/N: I meant to post this last night but I'm on vacation and then got super distracted by friends and other things! But here it is, chapter 16. It's kind of all over the place. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be focusing predominantly on Katniss and Peeta over the next few chapters. You'll have to read Poison Me if you wanna see more Haymitch. The next chapter of Hands and Fire will be up as soon as I can manage it. I want to make sure I spend lots of time with my friends while I'm here, as it's they're last year at college and I don't know when I'll see some of them again! =[ Poison Me Chapter Four should go up in about 48 hours though, if you need something to read in the meantime._

 _Love y'all! Please remember to review when you get a chance, and don't forget to follow so you never miss an update._


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